The Clearing
by Elf Eye
Summary: An elfling 'Anomen' story (The Nameless One series) covering the first five years of his life.
1. The Cottage

This is the first chapter of the elfling tale requested by Farflung.  She has asked for a story about Legolas' life with Edwen Nana, before he is taken away to the Great Hall early on in "The Nameless One."

Beta reader: _Dragonfly_ the Discerning.

Vocabulary

Edwen Nana—'Second Mama'

Erynmaethor—'Wood warrior', i.e., 'carpenter'; father of Tathar, Laiqua's childhood friend

laes—'baby'

Tathar—'Willow'; Laiqua's childhood friend; son of Erynmaethor

Two Elves on horseback entered a clearing and reined their horses to a halt before a small cottage.  One, mounted upon a great stallion, was Gilglîr, Seneschal of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood.  The second, who rode upon a gentle mare, was an elleth who bore a carefully wrapped bundle in her arms.  On closer inspection, this bundle proved to be a tiny elfling only a few days old.  His hair was golden, and his eyes as blue as flax flowers.

"'Tis a humble dwelling," said Gilglîr apologetically, "but you will be safe here."

He dismounted from his horse and helped the elleth down from hers.  She looked about appraisingly.

"A little elfling has no need of grandeur.  This will do until such time as the King recalls his son to the Great Hall."

"It may be long before he does so, Edwen Nana," said Gilglîr sadly.

"But until he does, be sure I will see that Laiqua is happy here."

"Thank you, Edwen Nana.  For my part, I will see to it that you and the infant lack for nothing needful.  You must understand, however, that Laiqua is to be dressed and brought up plainly.  It would not do for his princely status to be apparent to all and sundry.  Although guards will be posted in the forest, if news of Laiqua's presence here spreads widely, evil folk might try to creep near—aye, and might succeed, too.  As long as he is to dwell outside the Great Hall, he must be passed off as a commoner."

Edwen Nana nodded.

"I understand, and so he shall be raised—as least in so far as will be noticeable to others.  He shall dress and dine plainly and his pursuits shall be simple ones.  In private, however, I shall strive to equip him with the manners and the skills that he will someday need as Prince of Greenwood."

"Good," said Gilglîr, satisfied that he was leaving Laiqua in good hands.  He mounted his horse, but he hesitated a moment before riding off.

"I understand that you have but lately lost a child."

"Yes," said Edwen Nana, "a little over a fortnight ago.  Else I should not be equipped to succor this infant," she added wryly.

Gilglîr winced.

"I am sorry for your loss," he said humbly.  "It must be hard for you to take upon yourself the care of a laes when you have so recently lost one of your own."

"No," replied Edwen Nana calmly.  "It is not hard.  For I console myself in thinking that the Valar took my child because they knew that this one would have need of a Naneth.  And I believe that one day the Valar will again send my child unto Middle Earth."

"True," said Gilglîr, "but you may never meet him."

"There are many elflings I will never encounter," replied Edwen Nana serenely, "but I shall embrace the ones I do meet."

Gilglîr looked at her respectfully.

"I believe you will.  Aye, you would embrace even a dwarfling, I believe, for you are filled with affection and must have an object upon which to lavish it.  Indeed, you would no doubt care for a man-child, should one come your way!"

Edwen Nana laughed.

"I hope you are right; certainly I have affection and to spare for this little one."  She looked down at the infant that lay asleep in her arms.

"Laiqua," she said softly.  "You will not want for love."

Gilglîr gravely saluted her, reined his horse about, and rode from the clearing.  After he was gone, Edwen Nana carried Laiqua into the cottage and surveyed her domain.

"It is light and airy enough," she mused aloud, "for the windows are large and well-situated.  That will be a good place for Laiqua's cot, and my bed shall go there.  We shall need a wardrobe, a table, and two chairs.  A dry sink is needful, of course, and a bench along that wall would be nice, as would shelves on that side.  That earthen oven shall do, once it has been repaired."

Her musings were interrupted by a knock upon the door.  She went to it, and there stood a rustic Elf bearing the tools of a carpenter.

"I am Erynmaethor, Lady.  The King's Seneschal has sent word that I must provide you with any furniture you find needful."  He gazed about the empty cottage.

"It seems," he went on with a grin, "that quite a bit will be needful!  What would you like first?"

"A cot for the infant," she replied.  "And the oven must be repaired straightaway, for I shall have to heat water.  Much hot water is necessary when one cares for a laes."

"Well I know it," Erynmaethor replied fervently, "for my wife and I have lately become the parents of a little one."

"Indeed?  How old?"

"He is an Elf born but two weeks ago.  We have named him Tathar.  He has red hair, which has struck amazement into all who dwell hereabouts, for as you know, such a color is unusual in an Elf.  He is much admired!"

Edwen Nana stared at him in wonder.

"Red hair!  It cannot be!"

"Aye, Lady," Erynmaethor said proudly, "red hair."

"And with a strawberry birthmark upon the inside of his right forearm?"

Erynmaethor was dumbfounded.

"However did you know that!?"

"Oh," Edwen Nana said airily, "it seemed to me that an elfling with red hair ought to have a strawberry birthmark."

Erynmaethor shook his head in bemusement.

"Still, 'tis extraordinary that you should guess its exact location."

Edwen Nana laughed.

"Yes, the matter is extraordinary indeed."  To herself she said, "The Valar be praised!"  Aloud she continued, "But tell me, Erynmaethor, how much will I owe for the furniture?

 "Nothing, Lady.  The Seneschal has arranged that I be recompensed."

"Still, I should like to show my appreciation.  Perhaps I can mind your little elfling from time to time.  Indeed, I should very much like to do so," she went on when Tathar's Adar began to protest, "for then my own little one, Laiqua, will have a playmate."

"True," said Erynmaethor thoughtfully.  "I had not thought of that."

"So," Edwen Nana said eagerly, "you will bring him by from time to time?"

"Sometimes it is good to have my wife's company in the forest when I have much wood to fetch.  On those occasions 'twould be best if she did not have to bring along the laes.  But you are sure you would not mind?"

"Oh, no," Edwen Nana assured him.  "I have love and to spare for all younglings."

"Then I shall bring him to you from time to time."

"Frequently, I hope."

"Ah, my wife will not want to spare him _too _often.  She dotes on him."

"Does she!?  Oh, I _am_ glad," Edwen Nana declared feelingly.  "The Valar be praised; with two such loving parents, he will surely be a very happy elfling!"

Erynmaethor was a little surprised at the fervor in her voice, but he marked it up to her role as a foster-mother.  Such an elleth, he thought to himself, must be generous in her love, liable to freely offer her affection to any and all elflings.  Dismissing the matter, he turned his attention toward his task, pacing off the cottage so that he might determine the lengths of wood he would need for each piece of furniture.  Then he departed into the forest, soon returning with several stout limbs which he quickly shaped into the pieces necessary for a cot.

"This will be but a rude bedstead for the laes, but I shall replace it later with a better one.  'Twill do for several nights, I hope.  Now I will repair the oven so that you may use it even tonight, if you wish.  Tomorrow I will return early in the morning and begin in earnest to fashion you furniture that will be sturdy, serviceable, and, I hope, appealing to the eye."  Rustic Elf though Erynmaethor was, he shared the love of all Elves for the beautiful.

Edwen Nana thanked him, and then, as Laiqua was stirring, she went out and seated herself comfortably, back against a tree, so that she might nurse him.  As he suckled, he stared into her face intently.

"You, my little Laiqua," she said to him, "have the most attentive gaze of any elfling I have ever seen.  I do not doubt but that you will have exceptional eyesight."

Just then an acorn fell from a nearby oak tree.  Laiqua startled, arching his back, his arms flung wide.

"Good hearing, too!" laughed Edwen Nana.  "Nothing will escape your notice, I think.  You will be an exceptional Elf someday, and your doings will be celebrated throughout Middle Earth."

Suddenly, however, Edwen Nana wrinkled her nose.

"Of course, I must remember that in some ways you will _not_ be an exceptional elfling.  I wager you need a fresh nappy.  "And," she added, noticing that Laiqua was squirming a little, "no doubt you have a belly full of air and needs must be burped."

With that Edwen Nana arose and carried her charge into the cottage.  So it was that life in the clearing began on a decidedly unheroic note. But so must begin the lives of all heroes, although most chroniclers neglect to record that fact.  This chronicler, however, will not.


	2. Grey Father

Beta reader: Dragonfly the Discerning

_Kitsune__, Dragonfly, _and _Jebb__:_ Yes, you are right.  Tathar is indeed Edwen Nana's child sent back by the Valar, who in their wisdom and kindness are going to allow her to 'foster' her own son at the same time that she fosters Laiqua.  And they've both even got birthmarks! (although I think I'll move Tathar's from his arm so his doesn't become confused with Laiqua's).

_Farflung__: _Yes, I am indeed on break and indulging myself to the maximum.  (I _should_ be mowing my lawn.)

_Joee__: _As per usual, your wish is my command.

_Drews'girl_and _Karri: _I am glad you both found the story to be a sweet one.  I just hope I don't cross over the boundary into_ sickeningly _sweet.  Since I do tend to veer from sweetness to angst and action, I hope I can avoid that trap.  I am sure readers will tell me if I don't!

Chapter 2: Grey Father

A few days later, Erynmaethor walked into the clearing carrying a basket and hailed the cottage.  Edwen Nana came forth eagerly, wiping her hands upon a towel.  She hastened over to peer into the basket.

"So this is the little one," she cooed.  "He has a sweet face."

Tathar cooed back at her, and she reached into the basket and picked him up, cradling his head carefully.

"You are sure you don't mind?" said Erynmaethor anxiously.

"Oh, no, I don't mind.  When they are little like this and cannot scoot about, it is easy to watch more than one."

"And you will have enough milk?"

"Yes," Edwen Nana assured the Elf.

"Of course," said Erynmaethor, "I understand that you must feed your own laes first, for he will not be suckled later by another.  Tathar need only take a little, just enough to tide him over."

"Do not fear," said Edwen Nana.  "The more a Naneth nurses, the more milk her breasts will provide.  The body knows what is asked and will answer the summons."

"Just the same, I do not expect you to stint your own babe in order to feed ours."

"I will have enough and to spare," Edwen Nana promised.  This had always been her philosophy in life, and it had never failed her yet.

Looking back longingly at his infant, Erynmaethor reluctantly left the clearing, and Edwen Nana carried Tathar into the cottage.  She spread a quilt upon the floor and laid him down upon it on his back.  She could hear Laiqua stirring.  Picking him up from his cot, she placed him beside Tathar.  The two infants waved their arms about aimlessly at first but soon managed to discover one another, each turning his face towards the other.  Soon they were managing to touch each other's faces with their balled-up fists.  Their movements might have seemed purposeless to a less-experienced elleth, but Edwen Nana could see that each infant was moving the hand nearest his companion much more frequently than the hand further away.  She also knew that they were not hurting each other, even though one infant would look surprised when the other's fist landed on his face.  They did not have enough strength to do any damage.

They carried on in this fashion for some time, bonking each other on the nose and in the eye, mouths pursed as if they were perpetually saying 'O', although nothing but bubbles passed between their lips.  At last Tathar lost interest in Laiqua and began to whimper, but not because his companion had hurt him.

"You had slept before you got here," Edwen Nana said, "and therefore it is likeliest that you are either hungry or wet, or both.  Either condition can be quickly remedied."

Edwen Nana laid a hand to Tathar's bottom.

"Not wet, and I smell nothing.  Let us see if you are hungry."

She sat herself upon the bench, leaned against the wall, and opened her gown.

"Ah hah," she crowed, "hungry, I see.  Goodness!  It is fortunate you do not yet have teeth.  You are going to have to learn not to latch on quite so vigorously.  My breast is not going anywhere, after all, so you do not have to seize it with such ferocity!"

Edwen Nana let Tathar suckle until he was fully satisfied, and then, placing a towel over her knees, she laid him upon his tummy and rubbed his back until he burped.

Laiqua had not made a sound up until that point, but as soon as Tathar burped, he began to wail.

"Hmm," mused the nursemaid as she laid down Tathar and picked up Laiqua, "it is almost as if this one knew to wait his turn, not complaining until I had nursed his companion."

Laiqua stared intently into Edwen Nana's face as he suckled.  The nursemaid had never known an infant to have such an intense gaze, and it both amused and troubled her.

"You are going to be a serious little elfling," she told him, "mayhap too serious.  I pray that you will find reason to laugh.  It is true that your father thus far has given you little cause to do so, but you are young yet, and matters may change."

It seemed as if her prayer was destined to be answered.  As Laiqua became satiated with milk, his body relaxed and he became drowsy.  His eyelids drooped and his lips parted, the nipple slipping from his mouth.  The lips of the sleepy and milk-contented infant curved upward.  The elders amongst the Nanith had long argued over whether this expression on an infant's face was a true smile or a mere simulacrum of one.  Edwen Nana had always believed the former.  "The babe is happy," she would argue, "and his lips are curved upward.  If a grown Elf is happy and his lips curve upward, we say that he smiles.  Why should we not say the same of a laes?"

She was certain, then, that Laiqua lay smiling upon her lap.  Carefully she lifted him and laid him back on the quilt next to Tathar.  As she did so, she heard footsteps approaching the door.  She frowned.  The footsteps sounded heavier than those of an Elf.  Still, there were guards posted in the forest.  Surely they would not let anyone or anything untoward approach the cottage.  She went to the door and looked out.  Ah, it seemed as if she were correct.  'Twas merely an old Man, a poor wanderer, no doubt, for he was dressed in a plain grey robe and carried only a small bag slung over his shoulder.  In his hand was a staff, and his head was protected by a hat.  His only adornment was a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Welcome, grandfather," said Edwen Nana politely.  "If you are hungry or thirsty, pray come in.  I can offer you only plain fare, but there is plenty of it."

"Thank you, daughter," answered the old Man.  He doffed his hat and entered the dwelling, stooping a little for the door was low.  Once inside, he straightened up and looked around appreciatively.

"You have arranged things very comfortably here," he said.  Then he looked down at his feet.

"Oh ho! Twins!"

"No, they are not twins, not exactly, although they are quite near in age."

"But they have got the same mother, have they not?"

"Yes—no—well, after a fashion.  It is a rather complicated story.  They are both mine, in one way, but, then in another sense neither of them is mine."

"A riddle," said the old Man.  "I like riddles.  Indeed, they are my stock in trade.  Do you mind if I smoke," he added, drawing out a pipe.

"Indeed I _do_!" exclaimed Edwen Nana.  "The very idea!  I'll have no nasty fumes around my babes!"

"Oh, sorry," said the old Man apologetically.  "I had forgot."

"Forgot!  How could you forget when you just now saw the babes asleep at your feet!?"

"I hadn't forgotten they were _there_," said the Man humbly.  "I was just not thinking about the fact that it would be an ill thing for such wee ones to breathe in the fumes."

"It is an ill thing for _anyone_ to breathe in such fumes," Edwen Nana declared vehemently.

"True, true," the old Man said hastily.  "Well, I will be going."

Edwen Nana's expression instantly softened.

"Nay, grandfather, you will not!  You have not yet supped.  Here.  Sit ye down," she said, pulling out one of the chairs from the table.  "You must not mistake me.  You are very welcome as long as you do not befoul the air of this cottage.  Afterward, you may go outside and smoke if you like."

"I thank you, daughter," the old Man said gravely, leaning his staff against the wall and accepting the proffered chair. "I have walked a long way and still have a considerable distance to go."

"It is near sundown.  You may stay here tonight if you like."

"Thank you.  If it would not discommode you greatly, I will accept your kind offer.  I know I am still a long journey from the Great Hall."

"The Great Hall," said Edwen Nana, surprised.  "You have an errand takes you to the Great Hall?"

"Yes, I have heard tell that the Queen will soon give birth to a child, and I would congratulate both her and the King."

"The Queen has already given birth to a child—"

"Excellent!"

"—but she died doing so."

"No!  That cannot be!  And the child as well?"

"The child lives.  A strong little fellow he is."

"That at least will be some comfort to Thranduil in his grief."

"I think not.  He has sent the laes away."

The old Man arose and walked over to the quilt where the two infants still lay sleeping.  He stood there studying them with a thoughtful expression.  At last he spoke.

"The golden-haired one, I assume, for there is no red hair on either his mother's or his father's side."

"I do not know what you mean," said Edwen Nana cautiously.

The old Man laughed.

"Oh, I understand.  You have been told something along the lines of 'Keep him secret; keep him safe'—is that not so?  Well, well, you need not fear.  Riddles are my stock in trade, but so are secrets.  I will not betray you.  What is he called?"

"Laiqua," Edwen Nana said hesitantly.

The old Man resumed his seat at the table, and Edwen Nana, bewildered, placed a plate and a mug before him.  Who was this stranger? she wondered.  He was poorly clad yet had a kingly manner and a wisdom not often found in vagabonds.  She was prevented from further musings on the subject by the arrival of Erynmaethor, who had come to collect his son.

"Ah, Edwen Nana, I see you have a guest."

"Yes, this is, this is—ah, sir, I do not believe you have mentioned your name."

"Have I not?  It is Mithrandir."

"Mithadar?  Grey Father?"

"No, Mithrandir, Grey Pilgrim—although Mithadar would do nicely as well, I think."

"Edwen Nana," said Erynmaethor, "I have whittled you a small mug for Laiqua to use when he is ready to be weaned."

"That won't be for months, Erynmaethor," said Edwen Nana.  "But I thank you!"

"You are a wood carver?" said Mithrandir.

"Yes," said Erynmaethor proudly.

"Have you ever fashioned a bow?'

Erynmaethor shook his head.

"Neither bow nor shaft.  I leave that sort of work to the King's Armorers."

"Nevertheless, I should be glad if you would fashion a small bow for Laiqua here when he is old enough to walk."

Mithrandir drew forth a coin from the wallet that hung from his belt.  Erynmaethor shook his head.

"You needn't pay me.  I was planning on carving toys for both the children."

"Ah, but this must not be a toy.  It should be fashioned as if it were an adult bow in miniature.  And do not make it too easy for him to draw the string!"

Erynmaethor decided to humor the old Man.  He accepted the coin.

"As you wish, Master Mithrandir.  And I shall fashion him arrows as well, as many as he can lose!"

"Oh," said Mithrandir placidly, "I'll warrant he won't lose many."

Tathar began to stir and whimper just then.

"Time to take the laes to the wife," laughed Erynmaethor.

"Of course," said Edwen Nana tartly, "it is always time to take the baby to the wife when he begins to cry."

"Well, _I_ can't feed him," protested Erynmaethor.

"No, but you could change his nappy.  If you would use your nose, you would know that that is the problem.  He is not hungry!"

"I don't smell anything," Erynmaethor insisted.

"So much for the acute senses of Elves," grumbled Edwen Nana.  "Can spot an Orc from twenty leagues but can't smell a fouled nappy no more than six feet from him."

She knelt down beside Tathar and made quick work of replacing the dirty nappy with a clean one.  When she arose holding Tathar in her arms, she smiled at the disgusted expressions on the faces of both Elf and Man.

"You would think you had just seen a warg," she teased.  "How is that you males, who brag that you would wade through blood and muck on the battlefield, develop weak stomachs at the sight of a baby's nappy?  Aye, and you run when an infant's nose wants tending.  Not to mention how you react when a babe develops a sour stomach and needs must vom—"

"Madam!" interrupted Mithrandir, looking a trifle desperate.  "Say no more.  We yield the field!"

Laughing, Edwen Nana handed Tathar to Erynmaethor, who looked as if he would have retched had the elleth carried on much longer.  Bidding good-night to Edwen Nana and Mithrandir, he retrieved the baby's basket and hastened away.

Mithrandir went outside to smoke, but he set aside his pipe and returned inside when he heard Laiqua wailing.  It seemed that he, too, needed a fresh nappy.  After Edwen Nana had changed him, Mithrandir asked if he might hold him.

"Do you know how to hold an infant?" Edwen Nana asked doubtfully.

"Certainly.  It is necessary to support the infant's head," said the old Man, who spoke as if he were reciting from a book.

Edwen Nana still looked skeptical, but she instructed Mithrandir to sit upon the bench and then gently placed the baby in his lap.  The Man looked him over carefully, as if memorizing his every feature.

"Golden hair.  Blue eyes.  Well-formed limbs.  Shapely ears even for an Elf.  Will be exceptionally handsome, I think.  Ow!  Strong.  Wouldn't want to be kicked there by him once he has advanced to boots.  Hul-lo!  What's this?  Curious birthmark, that."

"Oh, that's nothing," exclaimed Edwen Nana, anxious lest Mithrandir think the birthmark a flaw.  "It's only a tiny little birthmark, and it won't show under the sleeve of a tunic."

"Yes, it would be good to cover it over," said Mithrandir, but he did not say so because he thought the birthmark a flaw.  He had his own reasons for believing that it would not be wise to flaunt a birthmark that looked remarkably like the elvish word for 'nine'.

"Well, well," he continued, "this child is practically perfect in every way—rather like myself," he added with an air of nonchalance.

Edwen Nana was speechless.  Such arrogance, saying that Laiqua was only 'practically perfect' and laying claim to being 'practically perfect' himself!  Of course, the logic of her indignation was flawed, relying as it did upon her feeling that 'practically perfect' was a demeaning insult when applied to her laes but that the same phrase was grandiose when applied to anyone else.  But a mother is not required to be logical on the subject of her child!

"Oh, oh, oh!" Mithrandir suddenly exclaimed, grimacing.  "Whatever is happening?  You have just changed this child, and he has gone and—oh, take him, please!"

With a smug expression on her face, Edwen Nana relieved Mithrandir of the infant and handed him a towel with which to daub at his robe.

"It so happens," she informed him grandly, "that an infant wets more than once a day.  In fact, it is well nigh a rule of nature that, once you have changed a nappy, the child will wet again almost at once.'

"So why bother changing the nappy," grumbled Mithrandir, "if he is only going to wet the new one?"

Edwen Nana rolled her eyes.

"Master Mithrandir, have you ever had to deal with a rash on a baby's bottom?"

"No, praise the Valar."

"Then hold your tongue!"

Mithrandir looked astonished at being addressed in such a fashion, but he did as he was told.

"Here," said Edwen Nana, gesturing toward the quilt.  "Let me show you how to diaper an infant; you never know when such a skill may come in handy."

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mithrandir indignantly.  "I don't do nappies!"

"I had a mind to pick some strawberries, but if you will not watch the babe a bit, then I will give o'er the plan," threatened Edwen Nana.

"Strawberries?"

"Aye, strawberries.  Large, sweet, juicy strawberries."

Apparently Mithrandir's 'practically perfect' nature did not extend to resisting the siren call of strawberries.  Grudgingly, he got down on his knees and bent over the baby as Edwen Nana instructed him in the arcana of folding the cloth just so.  Laiqua was necessarily uncovered for a moment, and he did what naked babies have been doing for millennia in the middle of having their nappies changed.  He let loose.  (Male babies in particular are prone to this—or mayhap it is simply more obvious that they are doing so.)  Suddenly Mithrandir found himself with a soggy beard.

"You ought to trim that beard more often," Edwen Nana observed serenely.  "Then that sort of thing wouldn't happen."

Mithrandir was so mortified that he was incapable of putting together a coherent sentence.

"In all my years, I have nev—durn me to Mord—by the Val—oh, bother it all!"

Edwen Nana picked up a basket.

"I shall be back shortly.  There are more clean nappies in the wardrobe.  Now, play nicely," she said sweetly.

Mithrandir growled into his damp beard.  Then he sat back on his heels and contemplated the cooing baby.

"Well," he said at last, "mayhap this shall prove useful in the future.  Yes," he continued, grinning wickedly, "should you ever get out of line, I shall threaten to announce before all and sundry, 'Laiqua, I changed your nappies when you were little'.  _That_ should bring you around quickly enough!"

Mithrandir now looked positively gleeful, but his joy was to be short lived.  Suddenly he wrinkled up his nose.

"What _is_ that awful odor?"

He looked suspiciously at the laes.

"You haven't, have you?" he said desperately.

He sniffed cautiously.

"You have," he groaned.

Back down upon his knees he went, although this time he was careful to stay out of the 'line of fire'.

"And to think it will be centuries before you come of age," he muttered.  "Exactly how old is an elfling when he graduates from nappies to leggings, I wonder?"

Fortunately for Mithrandir, Edwen Nana did indeed return shortly, and she was treated to a most endearing sight.  Mithrandir was cradling the laes in his arms, pacing softly back and forth, and crooning a lullaby.  His voice was not much to brag about, but the gentleness of tone was unmistakable.  When he noticed Edwen Nana, however, he cleared his throat and turned all business.

"I think he is hungry," he announced, "and I could only comfort him by lugging him about the cottage.  I hope I managed things in the appropriate manner."

"You did indeed, Master Mithrandir, and you may reward yourself with some strawberries.  Then you may take your rest upon that quilt if you like, and in the morning I'll send you on your way with a good breakfast under your belt."

Mithrandir was well pleased with those arrangements—he had been living rather 'rough' for the past several months—and he slept well, never stirring when, from time to time, Laiqua's cries roused Edwen Nana for the night feedings.

On one of these occasions, Edwen Nana shook her head as she listened to Mithrandir snore whilst she nursed Laiqua.

"Males," she thought to herself, "think that the world depends upon their actions, but they are incapable of dealing with the most important of tasks, such as succoring infants.  Why, if Laiqua were left to Mithrandir's care, the poor little mite no doubt would wail the whole night through without that big lug of a fellow stirring even once."

Edwen Nana rolled her eyes at the hopeless incompetence of males.

The next morning Mithrandir awoke rested and cheerful and eagerly 'tucked into' the promised breakfast, which, he thought to himself, would have done any Hobbit household proud, so delicious and bountiful was the food.  To his delight, quite a few strawberries remained from the night before.

After breakfast, he made ready to leave, thanking Edwen Nana for her hospitality.  As he stood in the doorway bidding her farewell, he looked about the humble dwelling one last time.

"Yes," he said loftily, "I approve of these arrangements.  This cottage shall do nicely as his abode, and you shall do nicely as his nurse.  Good day!"

With that, Mithrandir gripped his staff, jammed his hat more firmly upon his head, and strode briskly off, leaving behind a flummoxed Edwen Nana.

"Who is he," she wondered, "that he should presume to pass judgment upon my arrangements!?  One would think he were the guardian instead of me!  Peculiar old Man, to be sure.  Well, it was pleasant to have a guest, even such a strange one.  I wonder if I shall ever see him again."

In point of fact, Mithrandir never returned to the cottage, but Edwen Nana would see him again, when Laiqua had grown and was known as Legolas.  But she did hear from him whilst Laiqua was still under her care.  One day a letter arrived, with a coin enclosed.  "Honored Nurse," the missive read, "please use this coin to replace Laiqua's broken bow.  Your servant, Mithrandir."

Perplexed, Edwen Nana reread the brief note.

"His bow is not broken," she thought to herself.  "Whatever am I to do with this coin?"

Just then Laiqua appeared in the doorway.

"Nana," he cried, "my bow gave way—do you think it can be mended?"

Astonished, Edwen Nana took the bow from his hand.  It had snapped near the middle.

"No, Laiqua, it cannot be mended."

Laiqua looked stricken.  The little fellow loved archery above all pursuits.

"But," continued Edwen Nana, "it was time for you to have a better bow anyway.  Your old bow, although Erynmaethor whittled it carefully, was no match for one properly made by a craftsman specializing in such a task.  Give this coin to Erynmaethor and ask him to commission a bow for you the next time ever he goes to the Great Hall.  He plans a trading trip within the next fortnight, I believe."

"Thank you, Edwen Nana," exclaimed Laiqua, much relieved.

She smoothed his hair, although, of course, it did not actually need smoothing—this was Laiqua, after all, who would grow up to be Legolas.

"There is someone else you will have to thank someday," she said thoughtfully, "and I do not doubt but that you will have the opportunity.  Mayhap he is your guardian after all."

"Nana?"

"Oh, don't mind me, love.  Go on with you.  I see Tathar hiding behind a tree.  Catch him out and make him help you weed the garden.  'Twill go faster if the two of you do it together."

This plan was agreeable to the elfling, and he crept round behind the cottage so that he could come up behind Tathar.  Joyful shouts ensued, and then the two friends settled down to their task, knowing full well that their reward would be one of the pastries baking in the oven.  Watching them, Edwen Nana decided not to trouble the lad with portents but to allow him to live out his final few days in the clearing in as carefree a manner as possible.  For the mysterious message was, she knew, a portent of some kind.  And from that day on Edwen Nana watched the edges of the clearing anxiously, awaiting the inevitable arrival of the next message, the one that would drag Laiqua from the clearing and into whatever destiny awaited him.


	3. Wohc! Wohc!

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly _the Determined**

_Lyn: _Yes,strawberries are the most perfect of all the fruits.  (Although fresh peaches are a close second.)

_Karri: _Thank you!__

_SilentBanshee__:  _Oooh, I like that: "just one more way that guys manage to piss off women"—and in this case literally!

_Joee__: _I've slipped in a few lines that open the door to a one-shot in which Glorfindel babysits the twins.  Yes, I do have to make sure that I clean up the inconsistency between the **word** nine and the **number** nine.  It needs to be the word nine wherever it crops up.

_Dragonfly: _Poor Gandalf won't have much dignity left after I'm done with him.  Between having his clothes shredding and having infants pee on him, he probably is giving some serious consideration to going over to the Dark Side.

Chapter 3: Wohc! Wohc!

Laiqua and Tathar sat outside in the sunshine.

"Ta Ta Ta," babbled Laiqua.

"Qua Qua Qua," burbled Tathar.

"Ta Ta Ta."

"Qua Qua Qua."

Listening to their childish prattle as she bent over the laundry tub, Edwen Nana smiled.  How quickly they were growing.  First they had been rolling over.  Now they could sit up and creep about.  Soon they would be pulling themselves to their feet, clinging to the bench to support their wobbly legs.  And how they did carry on speaking!  Both could say 'Nana', of course, and name any number of birds and animals, and now they had settled upon names for one another.

"NANA!"

Dropping the tunic that she held, Edwen Nana straightened herself and looked over towards the quilt.

"Laiqua, whatever are you doing?" she exclaimed.  Laiqua had gotten a hold of a stick and was cheerfully whacking Tathar on the head with it.

"No, no," she scolded as she took away the stick.  "Do not hit."

Laiqua pointed at Tathar.

"Wohc."

"I don't know what you mean by that," said Edwen Nana.

"Wohc!  Wohc!" chanted Laiqua.  "Grrrrr."

Tathar giggled.

"Wohc!  Wohc!" he chimed in.

Edwen Nana shook her head, bewildered.

"You have learned another word, seemingly," she said, "but I do not know what it signifies."  Then she let out a shriek as Tathar bit her ankle.

"Tathar!"

"Wohc! Wohc!" babbled Laiqua, scrabbling about in the dirt until he found another stick.  Edwen Nana got it away from him before he could whack Tathar again.

"I do not like this game," she said sternly, "and you are both going inside.  Be glad I am not a human, for I believe it is their custom to spank babes who would behave as you have done."

She tucked one giggling elfling under each arm and carried them into the cottage.  Laiqua she put in his cot, and Tathar she placed on the floor of the cottage, handing him a spoon and a pot to bang together.  As for Laiqua, he began to wail.

"Poon! Poon!"

"If I give you a spoon," said Edwen Nana, "will you promise not to use it to hit Tathar?"

"Ta Ta Ta!"

Edwen Nana lifted Laiqua from the cot and placed him on the floor beside Tathar.  She handed him his own spoon, and together the two elflings cheerfully banged upon the pot.  Edwen Nana turned her attention to preparing the evening meal.

"I need more water," she said to herself.  She looked over at the two elflings.  They seemed to have forgotten all about the 'Wohc' game.  She picked up the bucket and left for the spring.

For several minutes, all that could be heard in the cottage was the banging of the spoons upon the pot.

"Grrrrrrr."

Laiqua stopped banging.  He looked at Tathar.

"Wohc?"

Tathar placed his hand on his chest.

"Ta."

Again a growling sound could be heard.  Tathar looked inquiringly at Laiqua.  Laiqua put his own hand on his chest.

"Qua."

Another growl.

"Wohc," said Laiqua softly.  Still clutching his spoon, he crawled toward Nana's bedstead.  Tathar followed.  Once there, the two sat looking up at it.

"Grrrrrrrr."

Immediately, Laiqua scooted under the bedstead.  Tathar still sat looking up at it.

"Ta," Laiqua called urgently.  "Ta!"

Tathar crept underneath the frame.  The two elflings scooted as far back as they could, until they were pressed against the wall.

Edwen Nana had left the door ajar, and now hinges creaked as it was pushed open.

"Grrrrrrrr."

Something was moving about the room, snuffling.  It came to the bedstead.

"Grrrrrrrrrrr."

The something was trying to push its snout under the frame.  Tathar began to whimper.  "Wohc," whispered Laiqua.  Suddenly, with the spoon he poked the creature as hard as he could, hitting it right on its sensitive nose.  The creature let out a howl.   The snout vanished.

At the spring, Edwen Nana heard the howl.  She cast her bucket aside and sprinted for the cottage.  In the forest, guardian Elves seized their bows and also raced for the cottage.  Edwen Nana burst in first.  A warg was crouched on its belly by her bedstead.  For a moment it bared its teeth at her, snarling, and then it disregarded her as of no moment, instead returning its attention to its intended prey.  It tried to push a forelimb under the frame.  Again Laiqua responded by wielding his spoon, and again the warg howled.  Edwen Nana had not been idle herself, however.  She seized the axe that she kept for chopping kindling, and as the warg in its fury tried again to claw the elflings out from under the bedstead, she brought the weapon down on its skull, killing it instantly.

Just at that moment the guardian Elves swarmed into the cottage.  Edwen Nana had some choice words for them.

"How is it," she spluttered, "that a warg could have gotten by each and every one of you fine warriors!?  Gilglîr assured me that only Thranduil's best would be posted in the woods hereabouts.  Seemingly he made a mistake when he picked _you_ worthless ones to make up the tally!"

"My lady," stammered their captain, "I am so sorry.  I do not know how this warg could have gotten by us.  We saw no sign that there was such a creature anywhere near this section of the forest—no tracks, no spoor.  Almost it seems to have materialized from the very air."

"Huh," scoffed Edwen Nana.  "This is no insubstantial being.  Now drag it forth, for I do not want my babes affrighted by the sight of the carcass."

It was indeed no insubstantial being, as the warriors discovered when they tried to haul it out of the cottage and into the woods.  Not a few of the Elves expressed considerable respect for the elleth who had dispatched the beast with one blow of a smallish axe.

Once the Elves had dragged off the carcass, Edwen Nana tossed down a cloth to hide the blood and knelt down beside the bedstead to coax the elflings to come forth.

"Laiqua, Tathar, you are quite safe now.  Come to Nana," she cooed.

Edwen Nana heard a little scuffling noise from beneath the bedstead, and Laiqua crept near enough to its edge for the nursemaid to reach under and draw him forth.  She carried him to his cot and gently placed him in it.  Now Tathar was peeking out from beneath the frame.  Edwen Nana gathered him into her arms and put him into Laiqua's cot as well.  Then she sat down upon the bench, threw her apron over her head, and had a good cry, albeit a silent one.  She did not want to alarm the elflings any more than they already had been.  At length she grew calm and emerged from underneath the apron, as she did so wiping her tears from her face.

"Well," she said with an effort at cheerfulness, "now I know what a 'wohc' is.  But," she added thoughtfully, "however did _you_ know what one was?  You have never seen one; you have never even heard tell of such a beast."

She shook her head, bewildered by her charge—not for the first time, of course, nor for the last time, either.

Far away in Rivendell, Elrond waited patiently for Gandalf to come out of his trance.

"Should I fetch him a glass of water?" Erestor worried.

Elrond shook his head.

"That won't help.  You should never try to force a person to drink whilst in a trance."

"Trance?" said Glorfindel.  "Are you sure this is a trance and not some sort of fit?  Methought I heard him growl—very untrancelike behavior, if you ask me!  Are you sure he won't bite?"

"Well," snapped Elrond, a little irked, "he might if you meddle with him!"

"You heard him growl?" said Erestor, now even more anxious than before.  "Perhaps he is possessed by the spirit of some fell creature."

"I shall be growling next," hissed Elrond.  "Be still!"

The three Elves stood silent.  At last Gandalf groaned.  His eyes had been open the whole time, but now they came into focus.  He looked about.  What, he wondered, was he doing lying under a table in Elrond's chamber?  And why was he clutching a candlestick?  Wearily, he crept out from underneath the table.  Three Elves stood in a row solemnly studying him.

"How came I to be underneath that table?"

"You crawled underneath the table," said Elrond as calmly as if that were the most normal thing in the world for an agéd wizard to have done.

"Why I am holding this candlestick?"

"You seized it before you crawled under the table.  You have been using it to fend off an assailant."

"Very nearly broke my nose," complained Glorfindel.  "I was merely looking under the table to see if you were well, and you took a swipe at me."

"What assailant was I fending off?"

"I do not know, my friend," answered Elrond.  "I had hoped you would be able to tell us."

Gandalf wrinkled his forehead.

"Everything is very dark and confused.  It was a beast, I guess, for I heard growling."

"How many?"

"Only the one.  It is dead now, I think."

"Think or know?"

"I do not know, but whether this beast be dead or no, the danger has not passed.  If alive, it will be back.  If dead, there will be others.  I must send a message to Gilglîr.  He needs must assign more guards."

"Gilglîr?" said Elrond, raising his eyebrows.  "Thranduil's Seneschal?  So the attack took place in Greenwood?"

"Yes.  Of that I am sure.  I saw the beast creeping in a forest, past the webs of giant spiders, and Greenwood is the only forest infested with those creatures."

"Who was the target of this attack?"

"I would rather not say, Elrond.  Someday I shall tell you more."

"Very well, mellon-nîn, I will not press you.  Would you like to dine privately in your chamber?  You look a little pale, and I would not want to task you by asking that you sit through a formal meal."

"Thank you, Elrond.  I would indeed prefer to dine in my chamber."

Gandalf arose to his feet unsteadily.  Glorfindel seized hold of the wizard's arm when he suddenly swayed.

"You must let me help you to your chamber, Mithrandir.  You are not well."

"I do not wish to be treated like a baby," Gandalf objected.

"At the moment, you are walking like one," Glorfindel pointed out.

Gandalf had to laugh.

"Very well, Glorfindel.  You may help me to my chamber.  At least I shall not require nappies!"

"Good!" exclaimed Glorfindel.  "For you would be on your own then, my friend."

"Aye," teased Erestor, "better a balrog than a nappy, isn't that so, Glorfindel?"

"Yes, from experience, I would say that is true," replied the balrog-slayer.

"Oh, what do _you_ know of nappies?" challenged Gandalf.

Glorfindel glanced at Elrond, who assumed a most innocent expression.

"Elrond and Celebrían once prevailed upon me to watch the twins while they went on a jaunt to Eregion.  They were not yet in leggings.  Remind me to tell you about it some time."

"I shall be sure to do so," promised Gandalf.  "I would like to know whether you had any better luck than I had—although, as you do not have a beard, you were starting out with an advantage."

Perplexed, the Elves stared at one another.  Whatever did a beard have to do with changing nappies?

Elrond cleared his throat.  Perhaps Mithrandir had not yet completely recovered the full use of his wits.  Better not to tax him with more conversation.

"Well, Glorfindel, why don't you just escort Mithrandir to his chamber.  I have some maps I'd like to go over with Erestor."

"You do?" said the latter, surprised.

"I do," Elrond said firmly.

Gandalf smiled and winked at Elrond.  Perhaps, thought the elf-lord, relieved at the gesture, the Istar was not so bad off after all.

Miles away, in the forest of Greenwood, Laiqua was not so bad off either.  Erynmaethor had fetched Tathar home, and now Laiqua was playing contentedly with a ladle near the warmth of the oven.

"Pider," he said happily.

"Spider!" exclaimed Edwen Nana, horrified.  "Don't tell me that one of those wretched creatures is prowling about.  If it's not one thing, it's another!"

She hastened to the door and checked to see whether it were bolted, as she had already done repeatedly that evening.  She then pried at the shutter of each window to make sure that they, too, were secure.

"There now," she said, satisfied, "no spider will get at _my_ babe."

"Pider," Laiqua said again, throwing his nursemaid into a frenzy.  Whatever was she overlooking in her quest to safeguard her charge?

"Pider," chortled Laiqua, raising his ladle in the air and bringing it down upon the floor with a resounding thud.  "All gone," he giggled.  "Pider all gone."

Edwen Nana gazed down at the floor and then relaxed.

"Yes," she agreed, "that spider is all gone indeed."

Stooping, she gingerly picked up the remains of the spider, which had been an ordinary, harmless one, and tossed it into the fire.  Then she picked up Laiqua and, holding him in her lap, helped him to manage his cup.  He had been clamoring for the cup for a fortnight, and, a little regretfully, Edwen Nana had set about weaning him.  She really wouldn't have minded if he'd nursed for another twelve-month, but it was plain that Laiqua was independent minded and wished to feed himself from plate and cup in the same fashion as his nurse did.

"Well," Edwen Nana consoled herself, "at least that means that he shall probably be out of nappies and into leggings sooner than I expected.  The day that it dawns on him that Erynmaethor does not wear nappies, that is the day he will want out of them himself.  I had better sew a pair of leggings to have to hand, for if he takes it into his head that he does not want to wear nappies, he will no doubt insist on going about bare-bottomed if there is no alternative to the hateful garment."

Laiqua had drained the last drop of milk from his cup, and Edwen Nana picked up a damp cloth to give his face and hands a once-over.  This was more ceremonial than necessary.  Laiqua's ability to remain clean had always seemed preternatural.  Today was a case in point.  Tathar had come out from underneath the bedstead covered in dust; Laiqua, on the other hand, had picked up nary a cobweb.

Crooning a lullaby, Edwen Nana laid Laiqua in his cot.  Smiling, Laiqua looked up at her.

"Nananana," he sang back.  He never left off smiling, but slowly his eyes glazed over as he slipped into infant dreams.

In Rivendell, Gandalf also found himself growing very relaxed.  Glorfindel, who had stayed to chat with him as he supped, watched, fascinated, as the wizard's eyes began to droop.  Odd, the wizard's way of sleeping with his eyes closed, or very nearly so.  Most peculiar of all, however, were the Istar's final words as he drifted off to sleep.  Glorfindel was quite sure that the wizard muttered—'No nappy'.

Mightily confused, the balrog-slayer shook his head.  He could not at all make out what those words meant.  Surely they could not mean what they seemed to mean.  No, there had to be some hidden meaning, some portentous message, disguised in that innocent phrase.

On the morrow, however, it was Edwen Nana who would discover the secret significance of Gandalf's final words.  For when she went to lift Laiqua from his cot, she found the elfling sitting there without a stitch on his body.

"No nappy," chortled Laiqua cheerfully, waving about the discarded garment.  "No nappy."

As for Gandalf, never again would he be troubled by dreams of diapers.  Of course, there are things far worse than nappies.  But at the moment, Reader, let us be grateful for small favors.


	4. The Great Escape

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_ the Devoted.**

_Tyndel__: _Hi!  Glad to hear from you.     Hope you like today's installment as well, although it is rather brief.

_Farflung__:_ Yes, a little "willing suspension of disbelief" is very handy in a situation like this.  True, babies are very aware at a remarkably young age.  I remember one of my colleagues, a psychology professor, using my eight week old daughter to demonstrate the truth of that.  He caught her gaze and stuck out his tongue.  Her mouth began to work and, sure enough, within several minutes she was sticking out her own tongue.  I had _no idea_ that infants could imitate at such a young age!  Now as for babies of the male persuasion—I learned at a very young age that the minute you uncover one, you'd better toss something over their midriff.  Once my mother stepped out of the room in the middle of changing my little brother, leaving me to watch him to make sure that he didn't roll off the table.  He let loose with a stream that hit the wall!  I'm standing there helplessly, shrieking for Mom; she hurries back, takes one look at the situation, and nonchalantly tosses a diaper—they were cloth back then—over the fire hose.  Of course, I felt a little silly at not having thought of that myself.  Never forgot it, though.

_Drew'sgirl__: _Keep your toothbrush handy!  More sweetness coming up!

_Melissa: _At some point I intend to reintroduce Tathar into the story.  I will provide him with a reason to show up at the Great Hall while Legolas is in residence.

_SilentBanshee__: _I would say that the Valar were possessing Gandalf, using him as a conduit to Laiqua.  Obviously this is not something Gandalf would be involved with as a general rule, because it takes too much out of him.  Same reason he does not rely excessively upon his magic.  Limitations must be placed upon Gandalf's powers, else the obvious question arises: why doesn't Gandalf _hey, presto, abracadabra!_ dispense with all foes through a wave of his staff?

_Joee__: _I like your idea of creating an elfling tale that sets up the movie scene in which Legolas balances upon the Mûmak (ROTK) and the scene in which he runs across the chain to balance atop the Cave Troll (FOTR).  There is an episode in "The Nameless One" in which Anomen, balancing on his feet, sleds down a hill on a shield, but there are no episodes in which he balances on animals or runs across anything as narrow as and unstable as a rope or a chain.

Chapter 4: The Great Escape

Ever since a warg had tried to get at Laiqua and Tathar, Edwen Nana had been very careful about closing the cottage door when she went to fetch water.  She always stopped a moment to rattle the door to make sure that the latch was in place.  Today was no different.  Satisfied that no creature could get at the elfling that lay napping within, she walked down to the spring, filled her bucket, and returned.  Swinging open the door, she carried the bucket to the dry sink, poured some water into the basin, and placed the bucket upon the floor.  She then looked over toward Laiqua's cot.  It was empty.  Edwen Nana was not, however, alarmed.  Within the last fortnight, Laiqua had learned how to crawl out of his cot.  Since she never left an open fire burning in the cottage and since all sharp tools were out of his reach, this did not trouble her.  Laiqua thought it was great fun to hide from her.  It was a small cottage, though.  There were really few places where an elfling could hide.

"Where's Laiiiiqua?" crooned Edwen Nana.  She paused, waiting for the giveaway giggles.  Silence.  Edwen Nana smiled and tried again.

"Has my little Laiqua turned into a tiny mouse?  Let me hear the mouse squeak."

Silence.  Goodness!  That an elfling so little should have so much control over himself!  Well, thought Edwen Nana, I shall have to play his game.  She looked under Laiqua's cot.  No elfling.  Well, he didn't usually hide there anyway.  Too obvious.  She looked under her bedstead.  She searched the wardrobe, lifting up garment after garment.  She went back to Laiqua's cot, this time smoothing down the quilt in case he was hidden beneath it.  Still no Laiqua.

Beginning to feel a twinge of anxiety, she hastily returned to her own bedstead and yanked off the quilt.  No elfling.  Back she went to the wardrobe, this time pulling out the garments and flinging them to the floor.

"Laiqua," she called.  "Laiqua, you can come out now.  You have tricked your Nana, and I yield."

No answer.

She straightened herself and looked frantically around the small room.  Where could he be?  Her eye fell upon the closed door of the oven.  The oven!  Had he lifted the latch of the oven, crawled in, and become trapped?  She sprang to the oven and flung open the door.  No elfling.  She felt simultaneous relief and fear.  Relief because Laiqua had not smothered in the oven; fear because she still did not know where he was.

She looked at the door to the cottage, musing.  She thought that she had closed the door when she left the cottage and pulled it shut after her upon her return.  Mayhap she was mistaken.  If she had left the door ajar, Laiqua might have slipped out.  Perchance he was not in the cottage at all!  She hastened to the door, flung it open, and peered out.  At once she saw a little figure toddling toward the woods.  "Laiqua!" she shrieked, running after him.  Before she could reach him, he disappeared behind a tree.

Rounding the tree, Edwen Nana came to an abrupt halt.  There was Laiqua, standing perfectly still, looking up in awe at a very tall Elf who gazed down at him with an impassive expression.  This Elf acknowledged Edwen Nana's presence with a nod and then vanished into the trees.  Edwen Nana scooped up Laiqua and gave him a hug and a scolding at the same time.

"Laiqua, you are not to go into the woods by yourself!  The warg came from the forest.  There are other nasty things in there as well, just waiting to grab hold of a little elfling.  You have plenty of ways to keep yourself occupied in the cottage and the clearing!"

As Edwen Nana carried him toward the cottage, Laiqua looked over her shoulder, gazing wonderingly at the forest.  Why couldn't he go in there?  He no longer felt the presence of a warg thereabouts.  And who was that Elf?  If _he_ could go in the woods, why couldn't Laiqua?

The next day Laiqua was again nowhere in sight when Edwen Nana returned from the spring.  She did not bother searching the cottage but made straight for the forest.  This time three tall Elves were holding Laiqua at bay.  Apparently he had kept trying to sidle around the one Elf, and the warrior had called for reinforcements, so to speak.

The next day, Edwen Nana braced a stick under the door handle when she left the cottage.

"There," she said.  "That should hold you!"

Of course, Reader, you know that it did not.  Edwen Nana had hurried to and fro the spring as fast as she was able and returned to the clearing in time to see Laiqua scrambling behind a tree.  The tall Elf had hardly had time to materialize before Edwen Nana had gotten a grip on the elfling's tunic.  She carried him back to the cottage like a kitten, scolding him all the way.

The following day, when Edwen Nana again set out for the spring, no sooner was she out of sight of the cottage than she set down her bucket and peered back at the cottage from behind a tree.

"I am going to catch you in the act, young sir," she vowed, "and put the fear of Mordor into you."

She was staring intently at the door when a small motion off to the side caught her attention.  A tiny head peaked above the sill of the window next the door.  Astonished, Edwen Nana watched as a little figure crawled out the window and launched itself off the sill, tumbling head first into the evergreen bush that stood below.  Righting himself, Laiqua crawled out of the bush, stood up, and began to scurry toward the forest.  As he neared his destination, Edwen Nana leaped out from her hiding place with a whoop.  Affrighted, Laiqua fell back on his bottom and began to cry.  From behind her, Edwen Nana heard the laughter of Elves.

"That will be enough out of you," shouted the nursemaid at the hidden Watchers.  "You might have told me that he was creeping out the window, but, no, you thought 'twould be more amusing to watch me be befuddled!  Worthless excuses for warriors!  'Twould serve you right if a warg were to bite each and every one of you on your arse, which apparently is where your brains are located.  And don't ask me for bandages, neither!"

The invisible Elves laughed all the harder.  Grumbling, Edwen Nana scooped up Laiqua and carried him into the cottage.

"I see," she said, once they were inside, "that I shall have to place that bench further from the window, for that is how you managed, isn't it?  You climbed onto the bench and thus were able to reach the window.  Well, the bench is too heavy for you to budge, so as long as it is not near a window, you will not get out again—at least not until you are strong enough to move the bench.  I hope that will not be too soon!"

As Edwen Nana had feared, as soon as Laiqua had the strength to move furniture, he began once again to escape via the window.   First he was able to move his little stool.  At last, wearying of having to run to and fro the spring in order to get back in time to catch Laiqua, the nursemaid had Erynmaethor come by and nail the stool to the floor.  Next, Laiqua found he could pull the chairs to the window.  Erynmaethor returned and nailed the chairs to the floor.  Finally, Laiqua developed enough strength to drag the bench to the casement.  Again Erynmaethor returned to the cottage to secure that item to the floor.  While he was there, he also nailed down the table, Laiqua's cot, and Nana's bedstead.  It was highly improbable that Laiqua could have budged the latter item, but, as Nana pointed out, improbable was not synonymous with impossible.

Even after all the furniture had been fastened to the floor, Laiqua made several attempts to go out the window.  One day, for example, he tried stacking pots and climbed atop them.  By doing so he was able to lay hold of the window sill, but the pile of pots fell away beneath his feet, and there he dangled by his hands until Edwen Nana returned and rescued him.  Erynmaethor returned once more and built a cupboard in which Edwen Nana could secure all the kitchenware.  At length, Edwen Nana took to closing the shutters every time she left the cottage, although it was tiresome to have to do so.

After several months of closing and opening and reclosing shutters, Edwen Nana dared to hope that Laiqua might have grown out of his seemingly insatiable desire to escape the cottage and flee into the woods.  Cautiously she began to leave the shutters open when she left for the spring.  To her delight, he did seem to have forgotten his dreams of absconding.

Of course, Laiqua's talent and propensity for escaping—particularly via windows—had only gone dormant and would reappear at a later date.  But that is beyond the scope of this history, in which only his childish feats are to be chronicled.  For you must concede, Reader, that Laiqua's infant accomplishments alone seem sufficient to have filled a book.  Pity poor Edwen Nana, who had to contend with the elfling's cleverness and boldness.  And pity his biographer, who has to record it all.  This Age very likely will have come to a close before the tale has been properly told.

My friend, I beg of you, offer a prayer to the Valar on behalf of this poor writer, who is off to a healer so that she may acquire leeches for her swollen and aching fingers.  When she returns, she will convey to you the tale of how Laiqua learned to run lightly across narrow tree branches, a skill that would one day stand him in good stead.  Until then, stay well.


	5. Dragons And Seagulls

**HELP! SOMEBODY STOP ME BEFORE I WRITE AGAIN!**

**Beta reader: _Dragonfly_ the Diligent**

_Silent Banshee: _Yes, the Valar have ways of keeping apprised of happenings in Middle Earth, and I thought a psychic connection would not be too far-fetched.

_Melissa: _This will be the tree-climbing chapter. Laiqua again will be very creative in solving his problems.

_Farflung__: _Noise can be a mother's best friend. I'll never forget the time that a suspicious silence set me to searching to house for my toddler daughter. I found her behind the couch clutching an open bottle of children's acetaminophen that I had forgotten to remove from her diaper bag after we had gotten back from the sitter's. Notch up one phone call to Poison Control. Mothers are forever saying, with narrowed eyes, "It's quiet—_too_ quiet."

_Tyndel__: _Thank you. I'm glad these infant Legolas stories do not seem to contradict your vision of the older Legolas.

_Symian__: _I assume the theme music has faded from your head; otherwise, by now I am probably _not_ your favorite person! However, yes, I was thinking of the movie when I chose the title. After all, the prisoners were so persistent, trying again and again and again to escape. That seemed to fit in with Legolas' repeated tries to reach that tantalizing forest.

_Daw__ the Minstrel: _Edwen Nana is a little overbearing at times, but nobody exceeds her in the 'loving care' department. Yes, pity that all children are not the recipients of such loving care.

_Joee__: _Oh, no, your story about the twins you babysat has captured my brain, which is now envisioning scenarios revolving around Elrohir and Elladan as infants! Aaaargh, I will never be done with these stories! As soon as I write one, somebody makes a comment that makes me think of another! Aiiiiiiiiiii!

_Karri: _You know what they say: The child is father of the Man—or, in this case the elfling is father of the Elf.

Chapter 5: Dragons and Seagulls

Tathar and Laiqua were sitting on the floor of the cottage decorating the kites that Edwen Nana had helped them make the day before.

"Edwen Nana," called Tathar, "is green a good color for a dragon?"

"There is a dragon has been seen near Erebor, I do believe," the nursemaid replied, "but I have heard various accounts as to its appearance. Some say its scales are green, some that they are steel grey. Yet others report that it is silver or shiny black or even brown. I think those who espy the worm are so struck with fear that they are incapable of giving a proper account of it. So you may feel free to paint your dragon any color you please."

"Green, then," decided Tathar, "with red eyes."

"And you, Laiqua?" said Edwen Nana. "You have not said what creature you have chosen for your kite."

"A seagull," declared the elfling.

"A seagull?" said Tathar. "What's that?"

"A sort of bird dwells near the sea," replied Laiqua.

"There is no sea hereabouts," Tathar observed. "You can't ever have seen a seagull."

"No dragons hereabouts, neither," retorted Laiqua. "You've seen naught but carvings of dragons."

"Yes, I have seen carvings," teased Tathar, "for _my __Ada_has carved me several. I'll warrant _your __Ada_ has never carved you even a single seagull."

"Tathar!" scolded Edwen Nana. "What possesses you to say something so unkind!?"

Both elflings looked down in shame, Tathar because he knew he had behaved meanly, Laiqua because he had lately noticed that Tathar had both a Nana and an Ada and he wondered what he had done to not have been gifted by the Valar with an Ada of his own.

Edwen Nana continued in a gentler voice.

"Laiqua has no carvings of seagulls, but he knows much about those creatures. Laiqua, fetch that book from the wardrobe."

Recovering his spirits, Laiqua hastened to the wardrobe and carefully drew forth from underneath the neatly folded tunics a book that had been lately brought to the cottage by one of the Watchers. It was precious to him. Its cover was of finely tooled leather, and each incipit had been ornately drawn and gilded. But Laiqua cared naught for these decorations. Instead, he was drawn by the elaborately detailed pictures of birds and beasts, each accompanied by an account of its customary behavior. Turning the pages reverently, he came to a picture of seagulls swooping above the surf that rolled in upon a beach.

"G-w-a-e-l," he sounded out. "Gwael. Seagull. See, Tathar," he said excitedly. "The book talks! Each of these little marks makes a sound. Look how these marks cluster together? If you quickly say each sound there, one after the other, you can hear a word! I can make the book tell a story about seagulls. And here," he continued, turning the page, "is a picture of an eagle, and I can make this page talk, too!"

Tathar was impressed.

"Can you show _me_ how to make the book talk?" he said humbly.

"Of course," agreed Laiqua, all resentment forgotten. He turned to another section of the book, one filled with pictures of trees.

"That's a willow tree!" exclaimed Tathar, pointing at one of the pictures.

Laiqua grinned.

"Yes, but watch this!"

Laiqua put his finger on the first letter of one word.

"Whenever you see that mark, make a 't' sound."

"T," said Tathar.

"Now," said Laiqua, pointing to the second letter, "whenever you see _that_ mark, make an 'a' sound."

"A," said Tathar.

"Good. Now make the 't' sound, and then right away make the 'a' sound."

"T-a," said Tathar promptly. "Ta. Ooh," he squealed, "that's the beginning of 'tathar', isn't it!? That's the name for 'willow', and _my_ name as well!"

"Yes," said Laiqua triumphantly. "See, here are the other sounds. There you see the mark for 'th', and there is the one for 'r'. Put all the sounds together, and you have 'tathar'!"

"And the whole book talks this way?"

"Yes, every page!" exclaimed Laiqua enthusiastically. "And I have other books talk in the very same fashion!"

"How came you to have these books?"

"From time to time a Watcher will bring one to me."

Tathar was impressed.

"You must be very special," he mused, "for the Watchers to bring you such treasures. Do you suppose," he added hopefully, "that you would want to trade one of your books for one of my Ada's dragon carvings? Or mayhap two or three carvings?"

Laiqua considered.

"No," he said at last. "The books are too precious to me. But you are welcome to borrow one from time to time. If you do, you must promise to take very good care of it. If you injure it, it may not talk anymore."

"Oh, I will be quite careful," Tathar promised fervently. "But now show me more marks, else I shall not be able to make the books talk when I _do_ borrow them."

The elflings spent much of the remainder of the day agreeably occupied in conversation with Laiqua's book. Tathar was delighted when he turned over one page to discover a picture of a dragon. It had red eyes and iridescent green scales, and a plume of smoke issued forth from each flaring nostril.

"A-m-l-u-g," read Laiqua. "Amlug. Dragon. Also known as 'worm'." Laiqua continued to read most expertly, for he had, in fact, well nigh memorized the passage. "Means of getting about: A dragon can crawl across the ground but prefers to fly. It will not under any circumstances swim, for water extinguishes its internal flame, which otherwise burns hot enough to melt gold. Its scales can turn both sword and missile, so it is not wise to meddle with a dragon. A dragon will devour an entire cow or pony at one sitting, but it is more avaricious than voracious"—Laiqua did stumble over these words—"for it delights in amassing treasure. Dragons are extraordinarily"—that word came out 'extwadinawily'—"gifted arithmetically, for each can tally its hoard to the very last coin. No matter how much treasure a dragon has amassed, it is folly to remove even one piece from the hoard. The dragon will assuredly miss even the tiniest bauble, and its revenge will be dreadful. The greatest dragons of all were Ancalagon the Biting Storm, Scatha the Worm, and Glaurung the Gold-Demon."

"Ooooh," sighed Tathar, letting out his breath at long last. "How exciting to think that a dragon has been seen in Erebor!"

Edwen Nana had been listening as she prepared supper.

"I doubt the Dwarves are much excited by the worm's proximity," she muttered to herself. "Someday that dragon will mean trouble. Once those Dwarves pile up enough wealth to catch its eye, he'll come swooping down upon them. Then Thranduil will have to look to the borders, for doubtless refugees will come blundering through."

She placed two plates and two mugs upon the table.

"Go and wash your hands and faces," she instructed the elflings.

"My hands and face are clean, Nana," said Laiqua.

"Doubtless they are, love," the nursemaid replied, "but wash nonetheless in order to keep your friend company."

Good-naturedly, Laiqua joined Tathar at the dry sink, helping his friend to pour water from the jug into the basin. After both had washed and dried their hands and faces, they came to the table. They made short work of the meal, as younglings are wont to do. Edwen Nana pretended to grumble, uttering the customary complaint of the Naneth.

"Takes hours to prepare the meal; minutes for you to eat it."

Of course, in truth she was pleased at their hearty appetites.

Shortly after the elflings had finished supper, Erynmaethor arrived to fetch Tathar home.

"Mae govannen, Erynmaethor," Edwen Nana greeted him. "Do you still plan to take the elflings to the greensward tomorrow so that they may fly their kites?"

"I do indeed, Edwen Nana," the carpenter replied.

"I thank you for that, Erynmaethor. It will be the first time in four years that I have had a day to myself. But I do hope you know what you are taking on!"

"I know how mischievous Tathar is," laughed Erynmaethor, "so I assume that with Laiqua along I will face twice the trouble."

"Oh, at the very least," exclaimed Edwen Nana, smiling.

After Erynmaethor and Tathar had departed, Edwen Nana sent Laiqua to bed early.

"You will be leaving at dawn, Laiqua. Sleep now, so that you will be able to enjoy tomorrow to the fullest."

Obediently, Laiqua crawled beneath his quilt and was asleep within minutes. The next morning he awoke even before his nursemaid, so excited was he. In the four years since he had arrived in the clearing, he had hardly ever left it. He envied Tathar, who had seen much more of the forest than he had. Not only did Tathar walk every day with his father on the path that led between their cottage and Laiqua's; he had also journeyed to the Great Hall with his Ada the last time the carpenter had gone to trade at the market that was periodically held there. Occasionally Laiqua did accompany Edwen Nana to the spring, and a few times his nursemaid had taken him to Tathar's house. But for the most part his life revolved around the clearing and the cottage that stood within it. Today, however, he would walk for hours to reach a great open space. The trees there had burned down not so many years ago, and the forest had yet to reclaim the land.

Laiqua slipped out of his cot and went to stand by Edwen Nana's bedstead. Her eyes were open, but she was clearly still deep within a dream. Laiqua fidgeted, standing first on one leg, then on another. At last his eye fell upon the bucket that stood by the door waiting to be picked up by Edwen Nana for day's first trip to the spring. Laiqua gazed at it thoughtfully. He looked back at Edwen Nana. She had not stirred.

"I am going to surprise Nana," Laiqua said to himself. "I will fetch her a bucket of water."

He picked up the bucket and carefully lifted the latch. The hinges had never been oiled—no doubt by design!—and the door creaked as Laiqua pushed upon it. Nervously, he looked back at Edwen Nana. She still slept. Laiqua pushed the door open just enough to allow him to slip out with the bucket. Then he crept toward the woods, hoping that he could somehow escape the notice of the Watchers.

As luck would have it, at this early hour the eyes of the Watchers were not turned toward the cottage, for they did not expect anyone to emerge from that dwelling for at least another hour. Instead, they stood with their backs to the cottage, scanning the woods for any danger that might draw near during the hours of darkness. So it was that Laiqua was able to reach the margin of the forest without being spotted. Not only that, the elfling was able to spy out the locations of several of the watchers. He gloated, but only for a moment, for almost immediately it occurred to the elfling that once he got past the Watchers, they would see him, for they were looking in the direction he meant to go. They would surround him and hem him in. The Watchers would not speak to him; they would not touch him; but they would inexorably herd him toward the cottage—or, at the very least, keep him encircled until an indignant Edwen Nana issued forth from the cottage in full pursuit.

Stymied, Laiqua looked all around him for a way to bypass the Watchers but saw nothing. Suddenly he heard a slight noise above him and looked up. An owl had just alit upon a branch overhead. The elfling's eyes widened until he looked somewhat owlish himself.

"The Watchers are looking outward, not upward," he said to himself. "How if I crossed _above_ their heads? They will not expect _that_."

Of course, it wasn't going to be easy climbing a tree whilst holding a bucket. Laiqua slipped off his leggings, knotted one leg around the handle of the bucket, and looped the other leg over one shoulder and underneath the other so that the bucket was fastened to his back. With both arms now free, he swarmed up a tree until he had reached a branch well over the heads of the watchers. Then, balancing on both feet, he inched along the branch until he was within an easy leap of another branch. He had never done anything like this, but he had an excellent sense of balance and was quite fearless, both prerequisites for success. After carefully gauging the distance between the two branches, he drew his limbs together and then jumped. He easily made his target.

Of course, when he landed, he made a little noise. A Watcher instantly looked up, but the boughs blocked his view of the elfling. Moreover, at that very minute the owl chose to lift off from its perch, and the Watcher saw the bird swoop by. Reassured, the Watcher resumed his careful scrutiny of the forest before him.

Proceeding in this manner, Laiqua was soon at the spring. He slid down a tree, carefully keeping it between him and the Watchers. Quickly he filled the bucket. As soon as he did so, he realized the flaw in his plan. It is one thing to travel through the treetops with an empty bucket tied to one's back; it is quite another thing to return with a full bucket.

"Ah, well," thought Laiqua to himself, "the Watchers keep me from leaving the clearing; I don't think they'd stop me from returning to it. Indeed, they'll _want_ me to go that way. So no reason I shouldn't simply walk back in plain view."

Laiqua unknotted his leggings and slipped them back on. ("After all," he told himself, "I don't want to be _entirely_ in plain view!") Then he lifted the full bucket—it was heavy!—and strolled as nonchalantly as he could manage in the direction of the clearing. Sure enough, after he had taken only a few steps, several Elves materialized, and Laiqua had the satisfaction of seeing the perplexed expressions on the faces of his instant escort. However, the Watchers said nary a word. Silently his guardians walked in front and in back and to either side of him until he was safely back at the clearing. Then they stayed in the margin of the forest, watching until he had slipped inside the cottage. What they said to each other after their charge had disappeared into the dwelling, I can only imagine.

Edwen Nana was still sleeping. Grinning, Laiqua placed the bucket by the door in its customary place. Then he slipped back into his cot and tried to look as if he still slept. It was still a good hour before dawn. It seemed a long time before he heard his nursemaid stirring. After tossing and turning a bit, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed.

"Well," she muttered to herself, "best start preparing breakfast."

She arose and made her way to the door. Bending down, she took hold of the handle of the bucket. Laiqua could hardly keep from laughing as she exclaimed in surprise.

"Full! Odd, I don't remember making a trip to the spring last night. But I must have, seemingly. Don't like to think I should be so absent-minded as to have forgotten."

Laiqua could restrain himself no longer. He sat bolt upright.

"I fetched the water, Nana! I did!" he declared triumphantly.

To his surprise, she did not beam at him and thank him for his efforts. Instead, she stared at him, her face impassive.

"Pray tell, how did you manage that when you were supposed to be abed?"

"I slipped out whilst you slept and crept above the heads of the watchers. I leapt from tree branch to tree branch, and then, um, and then…."

Laiqua's voice trailed off, and he looked uneasily at Edwen Nana. Her face was still impassive—all but the eyes, which now glittered like the blade of a knife well-sharpened.

"Laiqua, you have ventured into the forest at night, when you know that you are not to go there even during the day. You have behaved very badly."

Just then Laiqua and Edwen Nana heard Erynmaethor hail the house. Edwen Nana went to the door, where Erynmaethor greeted her cheerfully while Tathar grinned at Laiqua.

"Is the lad all ready for his great journey?" Erynmaethor laughed. "Been up already for hours, I'll wager."

Edwen Nana spoke calmly and deliberately.

"I am afraid Laiqua will not be going with you today. He has done wrong and will remain here and think on it."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Erynmaethor, surprised. As for Tathar, he looked shocked and disappointed. The elflings had been looking forward to this excursion for a fortnight.

"And I am sorry to have to disappoint Tathar," said Edwen Nana. "But it is necessary that Laiqua understand that some behavior cannot be o'erlooked."

"I understand," said Erynmaethor. "Come, Tathar. We'd best be going. We have a long walk ahead of us."

Clutching his kite, Tathar looked back longingly at Laiqua, but there was nothing to be done. There were tears in the eyes of both elflings.

Silently Laiqua forced down a few mouthfuls of his breakfast and then wiped the table and tidied his bed as Nana washed and dried the dishes. When she had finished, she laid a covered plate upon the table.

"I had planned to spend this day in merriment with Tathar's Naneth, and I still plan to spend the day so. You may entertain yourself with your books in the cottage or your bow in the clearing. Under no circumstances are you to set foot in the forest. If any of your arrows go astray, leave them until I return. When you are hungry, you may sup upon this cold luncheon. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Nana," Laiqua said softly.

"And will you obey?"

"Yes, Nana."

"Good."

Edwen Nana drew on her cloak and departed, leaving behind a very mournful Laiqua. For a little while, he idly flipped through the pages of his favorite book, stopping when he came to the picture of the seagull. He sighed, looking over toward the corner of the cottage, where his kite rested against the wall. Suddenly he wondered whether the clearing were large enough to fly a kite. Edwen Nana had said he could play outside with his bow. She hadn't said that he _couldn't_ play outside with anything else—only that he was not to leave the clearing. If he were standing in the clearing holding the string of a kite, surely that would be alright, wouldn't it?

Laiqua snatched up his kite and ran into the clearing. The wind was not very strong, and he had little room to maneuver, but at last he managed to get his toy aloft. It was not long, however, before the inevitable happened. The kite was snagged by a branch. Unfortunately, the branch in question was attached to the trunk of a tree that stood several feet back from the clearing—and Laiqua was not to leave the clearing. However, Laiqua quickly noticed that the bough itself—and the kite—hung over the clearing. Laiqua looked about carefully. At one end of the clearing stood the sole tree that he was permitted to climb. One of its boughs was adjacent to a branch that, like the branch upon which his kite was caught, forked out from a forbidden trunk while itself extending into the clearing. And that bough was next to another bough that was similarly situated. And so it went.

"I shall climb the tree that I am permitted to be in," Laiqua resolved. "From there I will leap to the adjacent branch, and from there to the next branch, and so on until I have reached the bough in which my kite is trapped. I will never set foot in the forest if I do so, and I will not have left the clearing!"

And that is exactly what he did. In short order, he laid triumphant hands upon his kite and then stood erect, surveying the clearing from this new vantage point.

As he balanced on the branch, he realized that a kite flown from this high would be well above most branches and not likely to be snagged. He held his kite up and ran along the bough. The breeze was much stronger here than on the floor of the forest, and the kite was caught and lifted almost immediately. Joyously, Laiqua made an aerial circuit of the clearing, leaped from branch to branch, always taking care, however, that it should be a bough that extended above the clearing so that he could never be said to have strayed into the forbidden forest.

When Laiqua had run out upon the first branch, the Watchers had suddenly appeared in the clearing, standing anxiously underneath him, muscles tense as they prepared to catch him should he fall. When he began to leap from bough to bough, the Watchers underneath him kept pace. Around and around they ran, striving to always stay directly beneath the elfling. At length, however, it became apparent to the Elves that Laiqua was no more likely to stumble in the air than he was upon the ground. They stopped pursuing him. Some immediately melted away back into the forest. Others, amused, stood watching the display for a time before joining their comrades in the woods. At last the clearing was once again empty save for the elfling who frolicked with his kite.

At length the sun began its descent to the westward horizon. The night wind came on, and the branches of the trees dipped and tossed. Laiqua laughed with exhilaration as he leaned his body this way and that, riding out the motions of the boughs. Almost he imagined that he stood upon the back of great galloping creature.

The sun dipped lower. Soon it would be dark. On a sudden impulse, Laiqua let go the string of his kite. The seagull soared into the air and, captured by the wind, flew away into the distance. Laiqua gazed after it until it had dwindled to a point and he could no longer make out its features.

"I will follow you someday," he promised, suddenly serious past his years, albeit not understanding his own feelings.

At that moment Edwen Nana was nearby, on the path that led to the clearing. She was trudging along laden with a haunch of deer that Tathar's mother had given her. "We have more meat than we need," she had assured the nursemaid, "Erynmaethor was well rewarded by the Seneschal for a wardrobe he lately built." She had not thought to tell the nursemaid that the carpenter had been instructed to decorate the new wardrobe with motifs suitable for a youngling, although no one had told him what young one could possibly be joining the household of the King. Had Tathar's mother mentioned the nature of Erynmaethors's commission, Edwen Nana would have been greatly distressed. As it was, the only thing that alarmed her was the sight of a kite sailing past above the trees, its string abandoned. She dropped the venison and ran the rest of the way to the clearing. Laiqua hailed her as soon as she emerged breathless from the woods.

"Up here, Nana," he called.

"Laiqua, what are you doing in that tree!?"

"I have been flying my kite. From here it stayed well above the trees and did not become entangled in branches. And Nana," he added emphatically. "I _didn't_ leave the clearing. And you never said I _couldn't_ fly my kite."

"True, Laiqua, I did not. You have not disobeyed. But how came you to lose your kite?"

"I didn't lose it, Nana," said Laiqua, climbing down from his perch. "I let it go. It has flown away to the west. I shall join it some day, I think."

Nonplussed, Edwen Nana stared at him.

"That youngling says the oddest things sometimes," she muttered to herself. Aloud she said, "Laiqua, bring you in the wood to heat the evening meal."

She hesitated a moment before continuing.

"And after you have carried in the wood, take the bucket to the spring and fetch water."

"But the Watchers, Nana? Won't they stop me?"

Edwen Nana raised her voice and directed her words toward the woods.

"If you are holding a bucket and stay on the path that leads to the spring, no, they will not stop you. Not as long as it is not full dark. Now haste ye, for it _shall_ soon be that."

Laiqua cheerfully did as he was bidden. As for Edwen Nana, she went back to retrieve the meat that she had cast aside. To her surprise, no sooner had she set foot back into the forest than she found the haunch hanging safely from a branch next the path. The Watchers, she thought, were truly good-hearted Elves.

"Be sure that I shall cook you a fine mess of pottage," she announced to the silent trees. She felt a little guilty that in four years the guardians had received nothing at her hands other than hard words. Well, she resolved, she would make up for that. She wondered if the Watchers had any mending needed doing.

Laiqua returned with the water, chattering as excitedly as if he had been absent on a long quest. "The youngling cannot remain forever in this clearing," his nursemaid thought sadly. "Even were he not destined to be a leader and a warrior, he could not endure remaining quiet here. I shall lose him, and soon, I think."

She hid her fears from Laiqua, however. "Well," she said aloud, shaking her head, "this morning I was not sure whether I was punishing you for lying or for sneaking out at night. I had my doubts about your story. Now, however, I know that you were telling the truth when you said you had crept over the heads of the Watchers."

"Nana," exclaimed Laiqua indignantly, "when have you ever known me to lie to you?"

"Never, love," replied Edwen Nana, kissing him upon the forehead.

The day ended better than it had begun, with Laiqua excitedly relaying all his exploits to Edwen Nana, and the nursemaid for her part giving a droll account of the gossip she had shared with Tathar's mother over a quilt that they had pieced together. Edwen Nana regaled Laiqua with several tales at the expense of Tathar and Erynmaethor, and Laiqua looked forward to lightheartedly chaffing his friend over several of his misadventures.

As Edwen Nana tucked in Laiqua, she told him that Tathar's mother had said that Erynmaethor planned to return to the greensward in the very near future.

"This season the wind shall remain brisk for several more weeks. You shall have your chance at kite-flying in the company of Tathar—if you behave, of course!"

"Oh, I will," Laiqua assure her. "And, Nana, I did not mean to do wrong this morning. I wanted to surprise you."

"I know that, Laiqua, and I was touched, even if I did not allow myself to show it. Still, even if your intentions are good, it is necessary to think of consequences. There is a reason why you are kept from the forest even in the daytime, let alone at night."

"Tathar is allowed in the forest if he stays within hearing," Laiqua pointed out.

"I know, Laiqua, but Tathar's situation is very different from yours. Someday it will all be explained to you."

"Probably soon," she added to herself.

Laiqua sighed. From the resolute tilt of Edwen Nana's head, he knew the nursemaid would tell him no more tonight.

"Nana, I need to make a new kite."

"And whose fault is that!?"

Laiqua colored.

"I do not know what came over me, Nana. Truly I don't. I had to let the seagull go."

"As I shall have to let you," thought Edwen Nana.

"Will you help me make another one, Nana?" Laiqua asked hopefully.

"Of course, love. Will it be another seagull?"

"No, this time it shall be an eagle. Seagulls are for dreaming; eagles for fighting. I will be a warrior someday, won't I, Nana?"

"Yes. Yes, Laiqua," Edwen Nana said sadly. "You will indeed be a warrior."

"Don't be sad, Nana! I will always come back."

"Always?" said Edwen Nana. "It takes a long time before something is 'always' true. But never mind that. Sleep now."

Laiqua was tired from all the excitement of the day and fell asleep almost immediately. Edwen Nana, however, sat up long after he had fallen asleep. Unbidden, these words came to her mind: _Onen__ i-ethuil Edain; ú-chebin ethuil anim._

"I have given a new season to Men; for myself I have kept no spring," she murmured. "I nourish this Greenleaf for another—as I have ever done. And the Elves, they nourish Arda for others, for when spring passes into summer, the Elves shall no longer dwell in Middle Earth."

Edwen Nana arose, shaking off these musings with a laugh.

"Whence come these dreary thoughts?" she said briskly.

But although she pushed these words from her mind for the time being, they were never again far from her thoughts.


	6. Plot Bunny

**Beta reader: _Dragonfly_ the Indomitable**

_SilentBanshee: _The Watchers are starting to come into their own, I think.

_Joee: _I am afraid that a little twin story is well nigh inevitable, now that you have planted the idea in my brain. Thanks a lot!

_Karri: _This chapter may be bittersweet as well.

Chapter 6: Plot Bunny

Edwen Nana was busy arranging strips of venison over a frame that rested above a smoky fire. Truly the gift of meat from Tathar's parents had been a generous one! From time to time she called upon Laiqua to fetch more wood. For the most part, however, the elfling was occupying himself this morning by shooting at a wooden target. At length, however, he stopped and sighed.

"I don't think I'm getting any better," he said mournfully. "Although it is hard to tell. My arrows lack points and bounce off the target, so it is sometimes difficult to judge exactly where they have struck. I wish Nana would let me have real arrowheads affixed to these shafts rather than these blunt weights. Also, I am not altogether sure that I am holding my bow in the best possible manner. I wish I had someone to show me. Nana knows nothing of archery, and neither does Erynmaethor."

As he uttered these last words, a shadow fell over him. He looked up and was shocked to see a Watcher looking down at him. He was even more amazed when the Elf laid his hands over his and adjusted his grip. The Elf said no word, but he smiled down at the little archer. Once he had corrected the elfling's grip, he stepped back. Laiqua released the arrow—and it seemed to him that the arrow hit the center of the target, although, as the arrow did not pierce the wood, he could not be absolutely sure.

He nocked another arrow, and again the Elf made some slight adjustments to his grip. As luck would have it, at that moment Edwen Nana glanced over toward that side of the clearing. She saw someone very tall who appeared to be laying hands upon her belovéd laes. Seizing one of the sticks meant for firewood, she charged across the clearing brandishing the wood like a weapon. She covered the distance in only a few steps and began to belabor the unfortunate Elf about the head and shoulders. For once a Watcher broke silence.

"Madam—oomph—I was only—aaaah—helping the lad—oof—with his grip. I meant no—aiiii—harm!"

By now, cowering upon the ground, the elven warrior was doing his utmost to roll up as tightly as a centipede.

Laiqua was tugging on his foster-mother's skirt in a futile attempt to restrain her. "Nana," he clamored, "Nana, he is telling the truth! Look at his garb. He is one of the Watchers in the Wood."

Edwen Nana at last heeded him and stepped back, scowling.

"If he is one of the Watchers in the Wood, then what was he doing _out_ of the wood?"

"Madam," came the muffled reply—the Elf was still curled up into a ball—"I noticed that the lad had no one to instruct him in the correct manner of holding his bow."

Cautiously, the Elf peeked out from underneath an arm. Seeing that Edwen Nana made no move, he grew bolder.

"My Lady, truly I meant no harm! The little fellow is so good with a bow even without instruction, that I thought, were he given a few pointers, he would be truly an extraordinary archer."

Unbeknownst to the Elf, he had happened upon the one argument that would hold sway with Edwen Nana. He had praised her belovéd Laiqua. Instantly her face softened and she lowered the chunk of wood, which she had continued to brandish as the Elf had spoken.

"Hmmph! If that is so, why didn't you say so outright!?"

"I was too busy protecting my vitals to provide an elaborate explanation," replied the Elf, trying to recover his dignity as he uncoiled himself and arose to his feet.

"Very well," said Edwen Nana haughtily. "You may carry on."

With that, the nursemaid turned on her heel and marched back to the fire, leaving behind an extremely bemused Elf. Suppressed laughter arose from the bushes thereabouts as the Elf's companions at last dared to give voice to their mirth. The Elf glared toward his invisible compatriots.

"Laugh if you will," he hissed. "I doubt any of you could have stood up to her wrath."

"Please, sir," interrupted Laiqua eagerly. "Will you still show me how to better my grip?"

The Elf gave over his indignation at the hopeful look upon the elfling's face. For the remainder of the morning, he did indeed instruct Laiqua in the art of archery, and as the noon meal drew near, Laiqua was exulting in his improved accuracy. The Elf bid him farewell then and left to join his companions. He promised, however, that if his captain did not object, he would return on the morrow. Then he vanished into the woods, a Watcher once more.

After the noon meal, two other visitors arrived in the clearing. Today was Laiqua's birthday—he was five—and Erynmaethor and Tathar arrived bearing a gift. With a flourish, Tathar drew forth a sharp, shiny blade affixed to a beautifully carved wooden handle. Laiqua was speechless.

"Ada traded for the blade at the market," explained Tathar proudly, "but he shaped the haft himself. See how he has engraved animals all around it?"

Laiqua finally found his voice as he turned the knife over and over in his hand.

"It is lovely," he exclaimed. "I have never seen one lovelier."

The little fellow carefully hefted the blade as if he were a warrior testing to see whether his weapon were well balanced. Erynmaethor smiled at the sight. At last, satisfied, the elfling nodded his head.

"This is a good weapon, Erynmaethor," he said gravely. "Will you make me a second one?"

"Laiqua, do not be greedy," chided Edwen Nana.

"I'm not being greedy, Nana," replied Laiqua, an injured expression upon his face. "I have two hands. Do I not need two knives, one for each hand?"

"'Tis true," said Erynmaethor, "that some Elves, the most expert among the warriors, do fight with two blades. However, you should first learn to fight one-handed, Laiqua. Once you have mastered that task, then 'twill be time to think about acquiring a second weapon."

Laiqua nodded.

"Very well, Erynmaethor. If you think that would be best."

Erynmaethor was both amused and touched by the lad's earnestness. He gave the little warrior the courtesy of answering with equal seriousness, although he could have easily laughed.

"Yes, Laiqua, I think that would be best. I have no doubt, however, that someday you will advance to training with two blades, and when that happens, I would be honored if the second blade you bore were also one of my devising."

"No, _I _would be honored," said Laiqua, bowing with the princely manners that Edwen Nana had taken such pains to instill in him. Tathar giggled. He always found Laiqua's manners to be a bit quaint, which was not an unreasonable reaction on Tathar's part. After all, Laiqua did live in a rude cottage in an isolated clearing—hardly the place where one would expect to encounter the heir to a kingdom.

Laiqua was grateful for the gift of the knife, but he could not help but sigh as he watched Erynmaethor and Tathar disappear down the path. The carpenter was on his way to harvest some wood that he needed for his latest commission, and for the first time Tathar was accompanying him as his assistant. Tathar was being given new responsibilities—grownup responsibilities. As for Laiqua, well, Erynmaethor had given him a grownup knife, but when would he be given duties commensurate with that gift? Dissatisfied, Laiqua again bethought himself of his blunt shafts. He resolved to put all his energy into convincing Edwen Nana to let him have arrows with points. "At least," he said to himself, "I may be able to persuade her to let me have grownup arrows to match this grownup blade." He commenced his campaign that very evening at supper.

"Nana," he said as he set the table, "I need new arrows."

"Oh, have you broken your old ones?"

"No, Nana."

"Lost them?"

"No, Nana."

"Ah, good. Then you do not need new ones after all."

But I do, Nana!" insisted Laiqua.

"How so? You have said that you have neither broken nor lost your arrows."

"I need pointed arrows, Nana."

"Pointed? I do not see why you should need pointed arrows. You are not going hunting, after all."

"But I can't tell how well I am shooting," argued Laiqua, "because my arrows bounce off the target. I need them to _stick_, Nana. Fletched shafts with blunt tips were all very well when I was little, but now I need points on my arrows."

"_When_ you were little! When you were _little_! Pray tell me, when did you cease to be little? _I_ hadn't noticed it."

"Well, when I was littler, anyway."

"Littler?"

"Even if I am little," Laiqua argued, "I am not as little as I used to be. Isn't that so, Nana?"

Edwen Nana had to smile.

"No," she conceded, "you are not as little as you were when we first came to this clearing. Still, you are not over large."

"Tathar," Laiqua pointed out, "has begun to assist his father. He will be a carpenter, and even as we speak his father is familiarizing him with the tools of that trade. We are of an age, Tathar and I. Should I not be allowed to have the tools of a warrior so that I may familiarize myself with them?"

Edwen Nana sighed. She knew that there was some truth to what Laiqua was saying. Reluctantly, she went to the cupboard and drew forth a long, narrow bundle that had been hidden behind a cauldron. Slowly she drew aside the leather wrappings to reveal the shafts that lay within, each tipped with a shiny, sharp point.

Laiqua gasped. "Whence came these arrows!?"

"A Watcher brought them one morning while you still slept. I believe they are meant to be your birthday gift, and, well, here they are."

Laiqua's face was glowing as he picked up arrow after arrow, minutely examining each one.

"These are much better than the arrows I have been using," he enthused. "They are very well balanced. I am sure that I shall be able to shoot much better, and I will be able to tell more easily how well I am doing because they will stick in the target."

"You be sure," warned Edwen Nana, "that the target is the only place where they stick. Hitherto it has not mattered much if any of your shafts went astray, but from now on it will. Do no harm, and always be sure of what you are shooting at."

Laiqua swore that he would indeed be careful, and out he went to practice with his new shafts. Again and again he shot a full complement of arrows; again and again he went up to the target and retrieved then, exulting each time at how much better he could direct these arrows than his old ones.

Once when Laiqua had gone up to retrieve his arrows, out of the corner of his eye he noticed something moving. With great care, he turned to see what it was. A rabbit—hopping, stopping, nibbling.

"I have never shot at a moving target," Laiqua thought to himself. "With my old arrows I am sure that I could have never hit one, but now I expect that I could."

This thought had no sooner entered into his mind than he had to act upon it. Moving slowly, so as to not affright the rabbit, he nocked an arrow, drew back the string, and smoothly released it. The rabbit gave one leap and lay still. With an exultant shout, Laiqua ran to it, picked it up by a leg, and raced to the cottage.

"Nana," he shouted as he burst inside. "Nana, I can hit a moving target! Look."

Proudly, he brandished the carcass of the rabbit. To his disappointment, Edwen Nana seemed unimpressed.

"You'd best skin it and butcher it for the edible parts," she said dispassionately. "'Twill make several dishes."

"But we already have plenty of meat," said Laiqua. "Erynmaethor gave you the deer haunch."

"Yes," said Edwen Nana, "and you knew that, too, when you slew that rabbit. You didn't shoot it for the meat, did you?"

"No," admitted Laiqua.

"Then whatever did you kill it for?"

Laiqua pondered for several minutes.

"To see if I could and—and to show off, I suppose."

"Are those good reasons for slaying an animal?"

"No," admitted Laiqua miserably.

"You have wronged this animal by killing it when you were not driven to it by need. Do not compound your ill deed by utterly wasting the meat. We will dine on rabbit tonight and for several nights to come."

"But I don't want to eat it," protested Laiqua, appalled.

"If you didn't want to eat it," said Edwen Nana sternly, "then you shouldn't have killed it. But you did kill it, and you will eat it. Come. You must gut and skin the carcass before it spoils."

"Can't you do that, Nana?"

The nursemaid fixed him with a level gaze.

"You brought the rabbit down with your bow; now 'tis you who must dress it."

"But you have always dressed our meat," argued Laiqua.

"Laiqua, the creature died by your hand; it will be dressed by your hand. If you are old enough to hunt, you are old enough to deal with the resulting carcasses."

Once again Laiqua tried to object, but Edwen Nana silenced him.

"If an animal dies by your hand," repeated Edwen Nana sternly, "it must be dressed by your hand. Fetch that new blade of yours. It will be blooded on the carcass of this animal."

Reluctantly, Laiqua fetched the knife. Edwen Nana stood grimly by and told him what had to be done.

"First," Edwen Nana said, "you must cut its throat—there, at the base, where the throat meets the chest."

Shuddering, Laiqua slit the creature's throat.

"Let it bleed," instructed Edwen Nana. "Good. Now you must hack off the four limbs. Not like that. You'll have to use more force if you wish to cut through the joint."

In point of fact, Laiqua did _not_ wish to cut through the joint, but he had no choice but to comply.

"Now," continued Edwen Nana inexorably, "before you go any further, skin it."

She put her hand on Laiqua's to guide him through the sequence of cuts necessary in order to peel back the skin.

"Next you must slit open the belly from the base of the breastbone to the crotch and remove the bowels. Tie off the intestines; you don't wish to spill their contents and foul the meat."

Laiqua managed to remove the intestines intact and set them aside to be discarded.

"Grab hold of the throat, and separate out the esophagus and the windpipe. Those pieces are offal; you'll want to discard them as well."

Soon the esophagus and the windpipe had joined the intestines.

"Now slice away the shoulders. You should be able to lift them clear of the bone. That's good meat. Put it over there on the skin. No! You're not done yet. There's plenty more edible bits must be removed!"

Reluctantly, Laiqua bent over the carcass once more.

"You need to break the breast bone; you want the chest to pull away into two pieces. But throw away that bit of gristle from the end of the breastbone. You may discard the lungs as well, but other organ meats, such as the heart, kidneys, and liver, are good eating."

Laiqua didn't think he would ever again find any part of an animal to be good eating. Miserably, he went on with his ghastly task.

"Turn the carcass over. See the backbone? You want to separate the meat from either side of it. Make your cuts here and here. Now lift the flesh free. Surely you can pull harder than that!"

Laiqua found a little more strength within himself and at last tugged the flesh free of the spine.

"Finally," said Edwen Nana, "there is good meat in the haunches. I am thinking of making a stew out of those pieces. Careful. That cut leaves behind too much of the meat. Try again. That's better. Now, I could make use of the brains, but, between this rabbit and the venison Erynmaethor has gifted us, I think I will be so busy preserving meat that 'twill be no great crime to discard the head this one time."

Laiqua breathed a prayer of thanks to the Valar. Then he looked down at himself. For once in his life, he was filthy, befouled as he was with blood and grease. He felt sick. Edwen Nana drew him into her arms and rubbed his back.

"I'll warrant," she said softly, "that you'll never again kill an animal when there is no need to do so."

"No, Nana, I never will," Laiqua promised, stifling a sob.

"You have only one more task must be done before you may clean yourself up. Go and gather extra wood. We will smoke some of this meat, else the parts that we cannot eat immediately will spoil."

Forlorn, Laiqua went to the margins of the clearing and along the path to the spring, gathering branches as he went. When he returned, Edwen Nana at last said that he could wash. Gratefully, he hurried to the bathing pool, which he was now allowed to visit by himself in full daylight. He wondered if he would ever feel clean again and seized handfuls of sand with which to scour his limbs. His clothes Edwen Nana had said he could leave to soak, and he weighted them down with rocks. After awhile, exhausted, he sat numbly in the water, shivering a little. Soon he heard soft footsteps and looked up to see Edwen Nana approaching. She carried a jar and a towel.

"You did not bring anything with which to wash your hair," she said, kneeling down beside the pool and placing the towel and jar upon the grass. Laiqua scooted over next to her and she undid his braids and rubbed soothing, sweet smelling soap into his hair.

"Duck under now," she said after awhile, and he rinsed the soap from his hair. Then he arose and she wrapped him tightly in the towel and picked him up. Laiqua sighed in contentment and nuzzled his head beneath her chin. Edwen Nana didn't carry him about as she used to. He had forgotten how nice it felt to be safely enclosed within the embrace of her strong but gentle arms.

Once back at the cottage, Edwen Nana helped him into his nightdress and combed and braided his hair. She had cooked the rib meat from the rabbit, but she did not after all insist that Laiqua eat it. Instead, she put the meat on a platter and carried it outside. When she returned in a little while, the platter was empty. Laiqua suspected that she had given the meat to the Watchers, who were no doubt sick of their own cooking. "I'm glad _somebody_ got some pleasure out of that rabbit," Laiqua thought to himself, "for I certainly did not." For his own supper, he was only able to eat a few mouthfuls of bread and honey, and Edwen Nana allowed him a little watered wine in hopes that it would settle his queasy stomach.

"Nana," he said as she tucked him into bed shortly after supper. "Nana, perhaps I shall not be a warrior after all."

Edwen Nana smiled and smoothed his hair.

"Laiqua, you will be a warrior, but not because it pleases you to kill. Nor will you be a warrior because you covet praise for your skill at slaying."

"Then why would _anyone_ want be a warrior, Edwen Nana? Tathar tells me that his Ada takes great pleasure in shaping wood into objects of beauty, and he is pleased to be praised for his talent and expertise. I cannot imagine taking pleasure in killing, and I do not want to be praised for excellence in butchering others."

"Laiqua, Elves do not become warriors because it pleases them to do so. Elves become warriors because they must. Do you remember that once, long ago, something frightening came into the cottage?"

"You have told me that a warg got in one day, and that Tathar and I hid beneath your bedstead. I do not really remember, though."

"I slew that warg, Laiqua. I split its head open with the very axe that to this day I use for splitting kindling. There was blood, aye, and brains, too, upon the floor."

Laiqua gazed at her in astonishment.

"Why, Edwen Nana, _you_ had better be the warrior!"

Edwen Nana shook her head, smiling a little.

"Nay, I would be wasted as a warrior, for I have other talents, ones that a warrior would be hard put to duplicate! My battlefield has ever been the nursery, and my weapons my tongue and my heart and my two strong arms. But think you, Laiqua: Do you believe I enjoyed killing that warg?"

"No, Nana."

"And did I brag on it?"

"No! You have never even told me before, and I have never heard you mention it to Erynmaethor or anyone else."

"Then why did I kill the beast?"

"You had to. You were afraid it would hurt Tathar and me."

"So why do Elves become warriors?"

"To defend other Elves—the ones whom they love."

Edwen Nana kissed him on the forehead and arose.

"You are right, Laiqua, you are not as little as you used to be."

"But I'm not so big, either," Laiqua pointed out hastily. "And I'm glad my birthday is over and I won't have another one for a year!"

"So you are not in as much of a hurry to be all grownup?"

"No, indeed, Nana! And—and—um—Nana, if you should ever wish to hold me, well, I won't mind really, if it would make you feel better."

"That is very kind of you," Edwen Nana replied gravely. "I shall try to remember that."

"Oh, please do," said Laiqua eagerly. "I mean, please do remember that."

Edwen Nana had her doubts about how long Laiqua's desire to be snuggled would last, but she left her thoughts unspoken. To herself she said, "Likely in a week he will be back to protesting vociferously if I so much as kiss him. But I do not think that he will forget the rabbit!"

And truly, Reader, he never did.

**Note:** The butchering scene was inspired by a passage in the Middle English poem _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,_ a poem edited by, among others, J.R.R. Tolkien.


	7. A Change Of Clothes

**Folks, I haven't done anything with this story in a while, but here at last is something for the elfling Anomen fans.**

**_Kelly Kragen:_ Yes, Edwen Nana can be quite fierce, as she will again show in this story.  But all in all, she is a gentle soul (except, of course, when she is protecting her elflings or bringing cleanliness and hygiene to the masses).**

**_Farflung_****_: _Yes, no one can outlast Edwen Nana.  She is the Eveready Bunny of Middle Earth.  If they'd had a few of her at Helm's Deep and Minas Tirith, those would have been short battles.  She probably would have washed the Orcs to death!**

**_Melissa: _Thank you.  I'm glad you like Legolas' character development.  I'm with you; I like stories in which the characters grown and change.**

**_Karri: _Yes, as you and _Farflung_ point out, Legolas needs a father figure.  No doubt that is one reason that Legolas embraces Gandalf as his mentor, as well, as, eventually, Elrond and to some extent Glorfindel.**

**_Kitsune_****_: _Definitely distasteful, and on every level!**

**_SilentBanshee_****_: _My daughter is a vegetarian.  I must confess that I do enjoy the flavor of meat, but when I indulge myself, I try not to think about where it comes from.**

**_Joee_****_: _Sorry for ruining your breakfast.  But to console you, I did write that chapter in which Tathar and Legolas are reunited!**

**_Dragonfly: _Yes, the minute Edwen Nana told him to be careful with those arrows, it was inevitable that he shoot something that he ought not to.  It is a law of both childhood and literature.**

**Beta reader: _Dragonfly!_**

**A Change of Clothes**

Tathar and Laiqua were paddling about in the small forest pool that was one of the few places Laiqua was permitted to frequent, one other being the spring from which he and Nana fetched water.  Although Laiqua could not see them, he knew that Watchers were hidden thereabouts, and should he try to wander away from the bathing hole, those silent, grave Elves would suddenly materialize.  He did not understand why he was always surrounded by Watchers, for Tathar was not so plagued, but, because he had grown up under their eye, he accepted their existence as a matter of course.

After splashing and ducking each other for a very great while, Tathar and Laiqua pulled themselves out of the pool and lay upon the grass to dry.  As they rested in the sun, Laiqua idly compared himself to his friend.

"We are of an age, Tathar."

"True.  I am merely a fortnight older than you."

"We are of the same height."

"Yes, and the same weight as well."

"Our hair is a bit different."

"Yes, yours is golden and mine is red."

"We both have birthmarks."

"True, although mine is an ordinary strawberry birthmark upon my shoulder whilst yours is upon your arm and looks like elven lettering."

"When we are clad and our hoods are raised, we must look very much alike," mused Laiqua.

"Do you know," said Tathar, impressed, "I believe you are right.  I wonder: do you suppose if we switched clothes, we could trick Edwen Nana?"

Laiqua sat up, suddenly excited.

"Let's try!  I'm quite dry now.  I'll put on your clothes; you put on mine.  It is getting toward dusk, and it grows cool and breezy, so it wouldn't seem odd to Edwen Nana if we came back with our hoods up.  We'll see if she addresses us by the wrong names."

Tathar grinned.

"What if she calls _me_ in for supper and bids _you_ run along home to my parents' cottage?"

"Oh, that would be lovely," enthused Laiqua.  "If she were to do so, I'm sure I could run right by the Watchers without them stopping me.  They would see _you_ go into the cottage and pay _me_ no mind at all!"

Both elflings giggled, but then Tathar grew solemn.

"It won't work, Laiqua."

"Why not?"

"Those Watchers of yours.  They'll see you putting on my clothes, and I putting on yours.  They won't be fooled in the least."

"Oh, we can manage," said Laiqua excitedly.  "Once time I was trying to slip into the forest, and as usual a Watcher suddenly stood in my path.  I made as if to make water, and he turned his back upon me until I was finished.  I have tried it several times, and it never fails.  I make water; they turn their backs upon me."

"Pity you don't have a larger bladder," observed Tathar, "for then you would long ago have escaped the clearing, leaving a trail the Watchers would have been loath to follow!"

More giggling.   Then Laiqua leaped to his feet, seizing Tathar's bundle of clothing as he did so.

"Ooooh, Tathar," he groaned loudly, "I have to make water very badly.  And then I will dress straightaway.  Brrrrr.  It has grown so very cold."

Tathar, too, leaped to his feet, Laiqua's clothes clutched to his chest.

"I as well," he declared.  "I wish my hair were dry, for I shiver in this cold breeze."

"Make haste to pull up your hood," Laiqua advised in a concerned voice.  "I will do likewise."

Laiqua commenced to make water in as conspicuous fashion as possible, and as he did so, Tathar pulled on Laiqua's clothes and drew up the hood.  The instant Laiqua was finished, Tathar began to make water, and Laiqua hastily yanked on Tathar's garments.  He, too, pulled up his hood.  Then, heads lowered for good measure, the two elflings scampered for the clearing.  Once there, they settled themselves upon the ground and played with Laiqua's armies of twigs and stones.  The twigs were Elves, the stones of course Orcs.

After they had sent a considerable number of Orcs packing, Edwen Nana came to the door of the cottage.

"Tathar," she called, "you had best set out for your own cottage, as it grows late."

Laiqua at once leaped to his feet and raced into the forest.  The Watchers he ran by spared him not a single glance, their eyes fixed as they were upon Tathar, who, dressed in Laiqua's clothes, remained playing with the twigs and sticks as Edwen Nana turned and reentered the cottage.

A little while later Edwen Nana again came to the door of the cottage.

"Laiqua, come in and wash for supper."

Tathar promptly arose and went in, making for the dry sink.  There he poured water from the jug into the basin and washed his hands and as much of his face as he could reach underneath the hood.  Then he sat himself at the table.

"Laiqua," Edwen Nana chided him, "you know better than to keep your hood up at the table."

Outside in the forest the Watchers were stretching and moving about a bit.  The most trying part of the day was over, now that the royal scamp was safely in for the night.  Suddenly, however, they started at the sound of a bloodcurdling shriek.  Seizing their weapons, they ran for the cottage.  As they reached the door, Edwen Nana, in great haste, came reeling out in a most ungraceful fashion, running headlong into the lead Watcher, who tumbled to the ground.  The next Watcher she seized by the tunic and shook until he was sure his brains were rattling about in his skull.

"You-must-find-Laiqua," she got out between shakes.  "You-must-find-Laiqua."

"But-but-my Lady," stammered the bewildered Watcher.  "We saw Laiqua go into the cottage only a little while ago, and he has not come out again!"  Had the elfling perchance at last driven the nursemaid out of her wits?  It seemed not implausible.

"That wasn't Laiqua," wailed Edwen Nana.  "That was Tathar wearing Laiqua's clothes.  Oh, it grows dark, and the spiders will soon be out!  I pray you, make haste!"

That last sentence was unnecessary, for the Watchers had already turned and were racing for the forest, all save one who took Tathar in hand to escort him to his own cottage, for it was now too late for the elfling to go home by himself.

While Tathar had been decoying first the watchers and then Edwen Nana, Laiqua had been running as fast as he could down the path that led to the Tathar's home.  To the elfling, making it that far would be adventure enough.  Besides, it was necessary to go there so that Tathar's parents would not worry over his whereabouts.  However, it did not seem to him that he had gone very far before he heard Edwen Nana's shriek.

"I had better get off the trail," he thought to himself, "else the Watchers will catch me straightaway."

Quickly he scrambled up a tree.  He knew the Watchers would have no difficulty descrying where he had left the path, so he leapt from tree to tree, caroming from side to side to make matters as confusing as possible.  At length, satisfied that he must have thrown his pursuers off his trail, he sat down upon a branch and, grinning, looked about.  All was quiet save for the birds who sang in evening chorus.

"Well," he said after awhile, "I had best go on.  If I delay overmuch, Tathar's parents will become fearful."

He arose and balanced on the branch, hesitating for a bit.  It dawned on him that he had jumped about with such abandon that he would have difficulty in retracing his route.  Actually, he suddenly realized, he would not be able to retrace his route at all!

This was disconcerting.  The sun had dropped below the horizon, and, in the middle of the woods as he was, with the entire forest floor in shadow, he could not even begin to guess at which way lay west, which way east.  But even if he could have divined the location of the sun, the knowledge would have helped him not one whit, for he did not know if he stood north, south, east, or west of the cottage.  He was well and truly lost.

At first he was not dreadfully frightened, for he knew the Watchers would be looking for him.  He opened his mouth to give a shout, but he paused when he heard a rustling and hissing sound nearby.  Watchers rarely rustled, and they never hissed.  Spiders, however, did both.  Now he feared to shout, for he knew he might bring a spider down upon him.  He looked about carefully, scanning the forest for a shelter, some tiny space into which he could creep that would not admit a spider.  He saw nothing.  He climbed down from the tree and began to walk, still searching for a hiding place.

"Ugh," he muttered at last, wiping sticky strands from his face.  He had blundered into a spider web.  Fortunately, it was old and tattered, its silken cords hanging limp.  He peeled the sticky stuff from his face and looked about him once more.  What was that object hanging up above?  It looked a bit like a caterpillar's cocoon.  As he watched, it began to undulate.  Fascinated, Laiqua gazed at the silk-wrapped pod.  Would a giant butterfly soon emerge?  The writhing cocoon suddenly split asunder—and out crawled the first of hundreds of baby spiders.  The arachnid released a silken cord and began to rappel down it, straight toward Laiqua's head.  In its wake its siblings came pouring out of the cracked pod.  Nearly witless with fear, Laiqua let out a yelp and took to his heels.  He was now no longer anxious to find shelter, for, be his hiding place ever so small, the baby spiders at least would be able to crawl in after him—and, newly hatched as they were, they had yet to enjoy their first meal!

It was now pitch dark, and had not it been for Laiqua's keen elven senses, no doubt he would have battered himself to death against the tree trunks as he frantically ran he knew not where.  At length, however, he recovered his wits and stood quite still.  At first he heard nothing but the pounding of his own frightened heart.  Then he heard a distant sound that gave him hope.  Hoofbeats!  There must be a path hereabouts.  Unerringly, Laiqua headed toward the comforting sound.

Closer and closer the sound drew until Laiqua could see motion through a break in the trees.  Eagerly he stepped forward into the path.

"Mae govannen," called Laiqua.

An elf-rider stopped, astonished.  The little person who had suddenly materialized in front of him had his hood up so that in the dim light his face could not be seen, but it was nonetheless plain from his voice that he was an elfling.  But wherefore would such a tiny elfling be alone at night in the forest of Greenwood, which was a perilous place, home as it was to elf-eating spiders?

"What are you doing here?" the elf-rider exclaimed.

"I am lost," the elfling replied simply.  "Will you help me get home?"

"Where is your home?"

"I don't know," replied the elfling, wondering why the elf-rider would ask such a silly question when he had already told him that he was lost.  If he knew where his home was, he wouldn't be lost, would he!?

"Well," replied the rider, flummoxed, "_I_ don't know where your home is, either!"

"Oh," said Laiqua sadly, turning to reenter the forest, for he was fearful of remaining in the open.

"Wait!" cried the rider.  "You surely don't mean to continue on your own!"

"But you said that you don't know where my home is."

"True, but I ride for the Great Hall with messages from Lothlórien to King Thranduil.  I shall take you with me, and the Elves there can make inquiries on your behalf.  Do not doubt but that they will find out your home."

"You think so?" asked Laiqua hopefully.

"Of course!"

The Elf bent down and took hold of Laiqua's hand, pulling him up and settling the elfling before him.

"Are you hungry, young one?"

"Oh, yes!"

The elf-rider drew a leaf-wrapped wafer of lembas bread from a saddle-bag and broke off a tiny piece.

"It is very filling," he warned Laiqua.  "Nibble it slowly."

Laiqua took a few bites and found that he was indeed full.  The elf-rider then offered him his water bladder, which Laiqua accepted gladly, as he was quite thirsty after all the running he had done.

"I am Rúmil," the rider told him when he had finished his brief but satisfying meal.  "I serve the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn.  This is," he added proudly, "the first time ever I have ridden out."

"Rúmil," repeated the elfling.  "And I am Laiqua."

"Laiqua.  Who is your father?"

"I have no father," answered Laiqua cheerfully.

"The name of your mother, then?"

"Edwen Nana."

"She is your foster mother?"

"Yes."

"What was the name of your first mother, the one who bore you?"

"I don't know."

This was troubling, Rúmil thought to himself.  How was the elfling's home to be found if he could not tell the searchers the name of his father or mother?

"What is your foster mother's name?"

"I have said so.  Edwen Nana."

"Yes, that is what you _call_ her, but what is her given name?"

Laiqua was unable to say.  He had never heard his foster mother called anything but Edwen Nana.  Both Tathar and his parents addressed her so.

Rúmil was nonplussed but consoled himself with the thought that in the end he would not be the one who had to restore the elfling to his home.  Let Thranduil's Elves puzzle the matter out.

In fact, Rúmil's guardianship of the elfling would be even briefer than he expected.  Without warning, Rúmil found himself suddenly surrounded by a group of Elves, each dressed identically, each equally grim, and each bearing a drawn bow, its arrow pointed at Rúmil's head.  One of them, the leader apparently, stepped forward.

"I did not know that the Galadhrim were in the habit of stealing elflings," he said accusingly.

"I was not stealing him," protested Rúmil.  "I was merely taking him to the Great Hall."

"Why take him there?  That is nowhere near his cottage," retorted the leader sharply.

"I did not know that," replied Rúmil.  "The little one could not direct me to his home.  I suppose," he added sarcastically, "that I _could_ have left him alone in a spider-ridden forest.  Would that have suited you better than my taking him up before me and providing him with lembas bread and water?"

Laiqua spoke up timidly.

"It's true.  I asked him to help me, and he did.  He is very nice, even if he _is_ from Lothlórien."

"Thank you for that resoundingly favorable endorsement," said Rúmil dryly.

That at last wrung a smile from the face of the lead Watcher.  He lowered his bow and gestured for the others to do likewise.

"I am sorry.  We were alarmed for the elfling's safety.  Your pardon."

"It is granted."

The leader came alongside Rúmil's horse, and the Lórien Elf handed down Laiqua, who was soon perched comfortably upon the Watcher's shoulders.

"Farewell, Laiqua," said Rúmil.  "Stay well."

"Thank you, Rúmil.  Mayhap someday I will see you again.  I shall be a great warrior when I grow up, and perhaps I shall travel to Lothlórien and draw sword by your side."

Rúmil kept a serious expression upon his face and bowed gravely.

"I look forward to that day, Laiqua."

With that, the Watchers vanished back into the forest, taking Laiqua with them.  Rúmil rode wonderingly onward.

"Curious, very curious indeed.  The little fellow knew not his father nor his mother and apparently dwells in a cottage with a foster-mother who is also nameless.  He was dressed plainly enough, too.  Yet in pursuit of him comes a troop of well-dressed, well-armed warriors who are prepared to riddle with arrows anyone who might threaten the waif.  This is passing strange!"

Of course, it would be centuries before Rúmil would learn the solution to this mystery.

As for Laiqua, he was a little disappointed that he was not to go to the Great Hall, for he was sure it must be a very grand place.  However, he did not brood overmuch.  Tired out by the day's adventures, he soon fell asleep, his head bobbing as the Watcher who bore him strode rapidly back toward the cottage.  He did not even awake when he was handed over to Edwen Nana, who gently undressed him and put him to bed.  The next day he of course received a fierce scolding from the nursemaid, and he was not allowed to play outside for a fortnight.  Nor was Tathar permitted to visit him during that time.  These penalties he bore with very good grace, for he knew better than to complain when he was justly punished.  As he was always justly punished, this meant that he never complained!

During Laiqua's term of indoor punishment, he had no need of a cloak, of course.   When the fortnight came to an end, he eagerly reached for that garment where it hung from a hook by the door.  Ai! When he drew it on, he discovered that Edwen Nana, inveterate seamstress that she was, had altered it.  And during the remainder of his days in the clearing, never again was he to wear a cloak with a hood!


End file.
